H  t+i 


THE    GREAT    MAZE 
THE    HEART   OF   YOUTH 


BY  HERMANN  HAGEDORN 

The  Silver  Blade.     A  one-act  play  in  verse.     Out  of  print. 

The  Woman  of  Corinth.     A  tale  in  verse.     Out  of  print. 

A  Troop  of  the  Giiard  and  Other  Poems.     Out  of  print. 

Poems  and  Ballads. 

faces  in  the  Dawn.     A  novel. 

Makers  of  Madness.     A  war  play. 

The  Great  Maze  ;   The  Heart  of  Youth.     A  poem  and  a  play. 


THE   GREAT   MAZE 


AND 


THE   HEART  OF  YOUTH 

A  POEM  AND   A   PLAY 

By 

Hermann  Hagedorn 


gotfc 

THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 
1916 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1915  AND  1916, 
BY  HERMANN   HAGEDORN. 


NorfaooU 

J.  S.  Gushing  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


tto 

THE   HILL   SCHOOL 


Not  with  swords,  not  with  guns, 

Mother  of  boys,  you  arm  your  sons. 

East  and  west,  south  and  north, 

With  a  word  in  their  ears,  you  send  them  forth ; 

With  a  word  you  gird  their  souls 

For  storms  and  starry  goals, 

And  send  them  over  the  lands 

With  a  torch,  a  torch  in  their  hands. 


343530 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 


"TEN  years  of  Troy  have  made  my  husband  dumb," 

Said  Clytaemnestra  in  her  strong,  slow  voice, 

So  full  of  melody  you  scarcely  heard 

The  sharp  discordances  of  mockery 

That  rang  athwart  it,  cold  as  steel  on  stone. 

The  banqueters  looked  up ;  the  table-talk 

Died  in  hushed  whispers;    one  man  choked  and 

coughed, 
And  one  man  laughed  a  drunken,  quick,  quenched 

laugh ; 

But  Agamemnon  slowly  raised  his  head, 
And  strangely  dry  and  destitute  of  words, 
With  grave  brow  and  unhappy,  homeless  eyes, 
Gazed  at  his  wife.     The  pale  light  on  her  lips 
Perished  as  though  a  wind  had  blown  it  out. 
But  from  the  bright  obscure  of  her  profound, 
Illegible,  black  eyes,  a  sudden  spark 

B  I 


THE  GREAT  HAZE 

Leaped  toward  the  strong  man  with  the  coward's 

heart, 

^Egisthus,  where  he  sat  among  his  friends 
And  sipped  diluted  wine  with  restless  mouth, 
Afraid  to  trust  too  much  his  runaway  tongue. 
Over  his  face  the  phosphorescent  flame 
Of  fear  flared,  licked,  and  passing  upward,  died, 
Leaving  his  throat  burning.     His  tongue  was  thick, 
His  lips  with  sickening,  sudden  fever  dry. 
He  saw  the  eyes  of  Agamemnon  turn 
And  follow  Clytaemnestra's  flying  glance ; 
He  saw  them  rest  and  gaze  into  his  own, 
With  that  slow  fire  that  never  flared  nor  roared, 
But  with  hot,  searing  patience  crumbled  walls 
And  had  burnt  Troy  at  last  with  all  its  towers. 
The  eyes  burned  into  his,  he  felt  them  burn. 
Then  when  it  seemed  his  desiccated  soul 
Must  at  a  breath  crumble  and  be  swept  forth, 
Ashes  and  dust  past  Agamemnon's  feet, 
The  King's  glance  turned  again  to  her  he  loved, 
A  little  puzzled  by  this  war  of  eyes, 
But  never  doubting  that  in  her  due  time 
She  would  resolve  it  all  in  quiet  and  peace. 
yEgisthus  flashed  relief,  and  the  Queen  smiled 

2 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

Faintly ;  but  in  the  delicate,  curving  lips 
Was  something  less  than  woman's  tenderness 
For  joy  returned  and  ended  widowhood. 
^Egisthus,  wise  through  watching  of  her  face, 
And  learn'd,  as  never  Agamemnon  was, 
In  the  dark  lore  and  cipher  of  the  Queen's 
Shadows  and  shafts  of  light,  laughed  in  his  heart 
To  read  the  scorn  that  hung  upon  her  lips 
For  this  liege  lord  come  home  from  war  too  late. 
He  smiled.     But  Agamemnon  saw  the  smile, 
And  the  smile  died. 

A  harp's  first,  tremulous  chord 
Rose  like  cool  waters  through  the  sultry  air, 
Splashing  clear  melody ;  and  where  he  crouched, 
Mysterious  as  a  mountain  or  the  sea 
Between  the  day  and  dark,  a  gaunt,  old  man 
Softly  began  to  chant  the  siege  of  Troy. 
She  listened,  Clytaemnestra,  smiling  still. 
But  Agamemnon  felt  no  rapture  wake 
His  pulses  as  of  old  at  the  old  song. 
The  tale  of  hard-fought  battles  brought  no  thrill, 
No  gust  of  pride  the  praise  of  his  own  name. 
Troy  seemed  a  legend  of  a  far,  dead  day, 
And  he,  its  captor,  dead  and  dust  with  Troy, 
3 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

Removed  by  dimlit  ages  from  this  man 
Whom  men  called  Agamemnon  and  who  sat 
At  supper  in  his  palace  by  the  sea, 
Watching  perturbed  his  wife's  perplexing  face. 
His  eyes  sought  Clytaemnestra's  but  his  gaze 
Stood  suppliant  in  vain  at  those  dark  doors. 
Once  he  had  entered  and  been  welcomed  there 
To  sunny  chambers  odorous  with  winds 
Murmuring  garden-magic  and  sea-lore 
Through  open  casements.     Dimly  he  recalled 
Lost  tricks  of  her  lost  girlhood,  April  moods 
Of  swanlike  queenliness  afloat  on  dreams, 
Deep  words  that  sank  in  sparkling  silences, 
And  evanescent  angers  and  sharp  thrusts, 
Cruel,  but  for  the  swift,  requiting  lips. 
All  that  was  dead  as  Troy. 

He  looked  at  her. 

The  swan  had  turned  to  stone,  her  very  flesh 
Seemed  hard  as  alabaster,  her  black  hair 
Rigid  as  though  a  hand  had  hewn  it  out 
Of  Stygian  marble,  hewing  each  smooth  curl 
Too  like  the  next  to  let  it  seem  quite  real. 
She  sat  and  smiled,  but  Agamemnon  read 
No  weather-warning  on  the  smooth,  cold  skies 
4 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

Of  her  immobile  face.     It  seemed  to  him 
That  she  was  just  a  little  bored,  perhaps, 
By  the  old  bard's  long  story.     He  remembered 
One  banquet  long  ago  when  she  had  yawned, 
Hearing  how  Pelops  ate  his  own  two  babes 
And  was  forever  cursed  with  all  his  stem, 
Pelops,  who  was  her  great-grandfather-in-law, 
The  family  skeleton  and  horrible 
Example.    He  remembered,  too,  the  scene 
After  the  banquet,  how  he  scolded  her, 
And  she,  quite  heedless,  let  her  black  hair  fall 
And  combed  it  carefully  and  let  him  storm, 
Knowing  apparently  what  hosts  she  had 
To  take  him  captive  when  it  suited  her. 
She  was  more  beautiful,  he  used  to  think, 
Than  Helen  herself,  for  Helen's  radiance 
Was  of  the  dawn,  made  garish  by  the  day, 
But  Clytaemnestra's  was  the  loveliness 
Of  falling  dusk :  first  glamour,  then  low  winds, 
The  deepening  heaven,  the  eager,  virgin  moon, 
And  one  by  one  the  great  and  lesser  stars 
Afloat  on  the  wide  silence  of  the  night. 
The  perilous  bloom  of  Helen's  dawn  was  over. 
Outside  Troy's  fallen  walls  he  had  seen  her  stand, 
5 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

Unchanged  in  the  perfection  of  each  line, 

Still  excellent,  but  with  all  magic  fled. 

Her  husband's  house  could  safely  take  her  back. 

For  her  no  fleets  would  gather  again  like  storms, 

No  seas  be  whipped ;  her  beauty's  fangs  were  drawn. 

He  watched  his  wife  who  smiled  and  still  could  smile, 

Conscious  of  mystery  where  no  mystery 

Had  been  in  former  times.     The  pitiless  day 

Had  overtaken  Helen,  the  dark  night 

Her  sister  Clytsemnestra.     And  the  night 

Was  full  of  shadows  and  amazing  shapes 

And  cold,  white  fogs.     He  watched  her,  suddenly 

caught 

By  the  new  kindling  of  a  passion  he  deemed 
Spent  these  unnumbered  years.     He  thought  he  saw 
The  Queen's  smile  warm  into  a  woman's  ere 
It  suddenly  expired  and  she  arose 
And  left  the  crowded  hall. 

He  followed  her. 

The  banqueters  sprang  up  as  they  passed  forth, 
Stretched  in  relief  when  they  were  safely  gone, 
And  slouching  on  the  benches  called  anew 
For  food  and  wine,  and  bade  the  bard  sing  on. 
^Egisthus  only  sat  with  worried  eyes 
6 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

Watching  the  Queen's  white  cat  paw  at  the  cup 
The  Queen  had  left,  half  full.    The  beaker  fell 
Clattering  to  the  floor,  spilling  the  wine, 
And  the  cat  sniffed  and  lapped  it  up  and  licked 
Her  cold  gray  lips  and  looked  about  the  room 
With  enigmatic  eyes,  and  yawned  and  slept. 


II 

At  Agamemnon's  back  the  hangings  closed. 
But  his  wife  turned  with  lips  of  venom.     "Why, 
Why  do  you  follow  me  ?     My  ways  are  mine. 
Your  ten  gay,  warring  years  have  forfeited 
What  right  my  husband  had  to  slink  by  night 
After  me  down  dark  corridors.     Go  back ! 
There  is  your  place,  down  there,  with  men!     You 

like 

The  company  of  men  who  fight  and  drink, 
And  women  who  are  ninnies,  but  have  looks. 
Dear  gods,  you  evidently  do.     You  gave 
Ten  years  to  them,  ten  years,  your  best  ten  years  — 
And  mine." 

Her  voice  was  suddenly  strangely  soft ; 
With  perilous  overtones  of  mockery 
That  seemed  to  lick  like  venomous,  mute  flames 
About  the  difficult  words.     With  quiet  scorn, 
So  deeply  purged  by  pain  and  heartsickness 
Of  all  ephemeral  smallness  as  to  seem 
Almost  a  holy  mood,  she  turned  from  him. 
He  said :  "I  do  not  plead  with  you.     Your  heart 
8 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

Is  strangely  altered.     Body  and  soul,  indeed, 
Seem  beyond  comprehending  changed,  caught  up 
In  some  gray  vapor  and  borne  far  away 
From  corridors  and  chambers  that  you  loved 
And  that  were  beautiful  because  of  you." 
Harshly  her  voice  broke  in.     "  Yes,  I  have  changed. 
Who    would    not    change    in    ten   years   of    slow 

death? 
You  have  not  changed.     No.     You  are  quite  the 

same. 

You  live  by  deeds,  by  what  your  arms  and  legs 
Can  smite  and  fetch,  by  bodily  delights 
Of  food  and  battle  and  lust,  by  bright  seen  things 
And   sharp   things   felt.     No.     Such   men   do   not 

change. 

They  grow  in  bulk ;  whatever  hair  they  keep 
Turns  gray,  the  lines  come  on  the  brow,  and  lend 
False  evidence  of  wisdom  where  none  is. 
But  in  their  inwardness  they  do  not  change. 
They  have  no  serpent  there."     Again  the  tone 
Flame-licked  and  sibilant  and  venomous. 

But  Agamemnon  looked  into  her  face, 
Half  shrouded  in  the  wan  lamp's  windy  light. 
9 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

"Your  ways  are  yours,  you  say.    Then  mine  are 

mine 

To  judge  and  to  repair.     More  than  strong  arms 
I  gave  to  Troy's  destruction.     Let  that  pass. 
I  have  returned  to  you  after  these  years 
Neither  to  judge  nor  be  judged,  but  to  live 
A  little  while  in  peace  before  I  die 
With  her  I  loved  —  ah,  Clytaemnestra,  look ! 
We  are  not  children  any  more.     Our  lives 
Have  passed  the  peak,  and  tread  the  downward 

slope. 

We  have  no  time  to  quarrel.     We  must  learn 
To  hoard  our  days  now,  making  golden  piles 
For  memory  to  live  on.     You  are  deep. 
I  cannot  fathom  or  pretend  to  pierce 
With  my  man's  inexperience  of  souls 
That  sea  that  is  your  spirit.    Have  I  wronged  you  ?  " 

"Wronged?    Wronged?"     She  laughed,  and  Aga 
memnon's  heart 

Knew  for  the  first  time  what  it  meant  to  fear. 
His  blood  grew  cold  with  fierce,  unreasoned  fear. 
She  did  not  laugh  again,  but  when  she  spoke 
She  spoke  as  a  snake  might  speak  to  a  trapped  toad. 
10 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

"Wronged?     Wronged?    You  ask?    You  do  not 

even  know? 

The  gods  were  kind  to  men,  being  men  themselves, 
And  made   them  horn.     But   women   they  made 

flesh 

To  bleed  and  agonize  and  pant  with  pain. 
So  it  is  ruled,  it  seems.     Forgive.     Your  years 
Are  more  than  mine,  and  sometimes  I  forget 
That  though  you  are  a  wise  man  in  your  world, 
You  are  a  very  child  in  mine.     You  are. 
Great  Agamemnon  is  a  child  and  like 
A  silly  child  he  threw  his  life  away 
To  chase  a  light  bird  home  to  her  old  roost. 
What  babes !    What  babes  you  all  were !    Did  you 

wrong  me  ? 

I  wonder  sometimes  are  there  any  words 
Simple  enough  to  bear  to  childlike  minds 
Like  yours,  the  intricate  and  subtle  lore 
Of  the  soul's  inward  life  ?    I  doubt  it.     Hands 
Bleed  vainly,  knocking,  when  the  man  within 
Is  deaf  or  has  a  lady  on  his  knee. 
Why  should  I  waste  my  breath?" 

Her  voice  was  harsh ; 
And  Agamemnon,  staring  out  to  sea 
ii 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

Through  the  wide  window,  watched  the  waves'  white 

line 

Illumine  the  profundity  of  night 
An  instant  with  bright,  flameless  radiance 
And  perish  in  faint  downfall  of  low  waters 
And  fainter  grist  of  pebbles,  ere  he  spoke. 
"  Upbraid  the  gods  who  made  me  what  I  am. 
I  am  a  man,  and  men's  ways  are  my  ways. 
I  see  no  other.     Yet  if  I  have  wronged  you  — 
Ah,  Clytaemnestra,  let  no  rough  camp  fault 
Impute  to  me  an  infidelity 
That  was  not  in  my  heart.     My  body  loved, 
Not  I,  Chryseis.     And  I  put  her  by 
Long  since." 

"When  you  were  done  with  her!     Of  course, 
You  put  her  by.     Why  shouldn't  you  put  her  by 
When  all  the  sheen  was  blown  from  her  fair  flesh, 
The  mystery  shattered,  the  adventure  grown 
Dull  and  habitual  as  marriage,  hate 
Uprisen  where  love  was?"    A  sudden  moan 
Died  hissing  in  her  teeth. 

"Forgive!"  he  cried. 

She  shrugged  her  shoulder,  saffron- veiled.   "  Oh,  yes," 
She  said  a  little  wearily.     "Why  not? 
12 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

If  it  will  make  you  happy.     I  suppose 
When  all  the  fun  is  over,  it  is  pleasant 
To  have  your  wife  forgive  and  clean  the  slate 
For  new  delectable  adventures.     Yes. 
We  will  regard  Chryseis  as  wiped  out. 
What's  the  new  name  ?    Cassandra  ?  " 

He  upraised 

His  powerful  eyes,  and  even  in  dim  light 
She  was  aware  of  grandeur  looking  out. 
He  said :   "Not  as  my  mistress  did  I  bring 
Cassandra  captive  home,  but  as  your  slave. 
A  great  king's  wisest  daughter  for  your  slave. 
What  more  could  woman  ask?" 

She  laughed  again, 

Softly,  not  scornfully,  but  with  the  tone 
Of  pitiful  despairing  that  must  laugh 
To  save  itself  from  overmastering  tears. 
"  What  more  ?  "  she  cried.     "  I  wonder  ?  " 

For  a  while 

Perturbed  and  animate  silence  held  these  two. 
They  heard  the  great  sea  pant  and  sigh  without 
Like  a  dream-harried  sleeper ;  but  within 
They  were  aware  of  stormy,  waking  seas 
Whose  quick  upreaching  and  indrawing  surf 
13 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

Each  in  the  other's  troubled  breathing  heard 
Across  the  stillness  of  the  room.    At  last 
Beside  the  window,  with  hands  clasped  behind, 
And  staring  as  at  some  vext  battlefield 
Along  the  dim  seashore,  he  spoke.     "At  Troy 
I  conquered,  and  I  dreamed  my  days  of  war 
Were  over,  and  henceforth  my  troubled  ways 
Would  be  the  fruitful  and  benignant  ways 
Of  peace.     I  dreamed  of  home,  this  friendly  house 
Where  you  and  I  were  happy  as  not  many 
Are  happy  in  this  difficult  world.     I  dreamed 
Of  you  and  of  the  children,  and  this  folk 
That  looks  to  me  for  guidance,  and  my  farms 
That  need  a  master's  eye ;  an  end  at  last 
Of  quarrels  and  the  argument  of  swords, 
Peace  for  the  remnant  of  my  days.     Perhaps, 
I  was  what  you  denounce  me  for,  a  child. 
So  be  it.    I  am  older  now.    Each  word 
You  coldly  speak  bears  years  upon  its  back 
And  on  my  heart  unerringly  flings  down 
Its  crushing  burden.     If  my  dreams  were  vain, 
So  be  it ;  if,  after  the  war  of  swords 
Must  follow  this  more  bitter  war  of  souls, 
So  be  it." 

14 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

Suddenly  his  calm,  clear  voice 
Broke,  and  he  turned  with  outstretched,  pleading 

hands 

To  Clytaemnestra,  where  with  back  pressed  close 
Against  the  wall,  he  heard  her  pantingly 
Breathe,  like  a  pump  that  sucks  at  a  dry  well. 
"Ah,  Clytaemnestra !     There  shall  be  no  war. 
See,  I  surrender,  I  fling  wide  my  gates. 
Enter !     Do  with  me  what  you  will.     But,  ah, 
Let  us  not  fight  each  other,  we  who  loved 
Freely  and  deeply,  and  again  might  love 
And  have  glad  days." 

A  cry  sprang  from  her  throat. 
"Ah,  listen,  listen !    How  he  talks,  the  man ! 
He  can  dream  dreams !    After  ten  lost,  dead  years, 
He  can  make  phrases  still,  he  can  paint  pink ! 
Gods,  gods !    To  stand  in  Hades  with  the  damned 
And  chatter  of  sweet  futures !     Go  away. 
Go,  Agamemnon !    Oh,  you  child,  you  child ! 
You  sentimental  child ! " 

Her  anger  died 

Hissing  in  waves  of  tears.     Against  the  wall 
She  stood  yet,  facing  him,  with  restless  hands 
That  clutched  at  the  smooth  marble,  and  fierce  eyes 
15 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

That  glared  with  foggy,  hot,  pervasive  glow 
Through  her  ungoverned  tears.     He  went  to  her, 
And  on  her  shoulders  gently  laid  his  hands, 
Whispering,  "Clytaemnestra,"  in  low  tones 
That  had  such  magic  in  their  tenderness 
She  was  almost  persuaded  while  he  spoke 
That  Troy  was  just  a  nightmare  of  an  hour 
And  this  was  youth,  and  there  was  nothing  to  fear. 
Her  tears  ceased.     She  looked  up.    Then  tremblingly 
She  freed  herself  from  his  too  dangerous  touch, 
And  with  the  tiger's  silent  swiftness  crossed 
The  shadowy  room.     Now  it  was  she  who  stood 
Beside  the  open  window,  at  her  ear 
The  fatherly  sea  uttering  wise  advice, 
And  on  her  cheek  the  impetuous,  young  wind, 
Preaching  no  sermons,  but  with  friendly  hands 
Cooling  her  burning  face.     Into  the  dark 
She  sent  the  hot  glow  of  her  desperate  gaze. 
The  stars,  it  seemed,  gave  help.    For  when  she  turned 
The  glare  was  sunk  to  a  slow  smouldering, 
Scarce  visible  in  the  vast  black  night  of  her  eyes. 
She  spoke.     Her  deep  voice  quavered  and  died  out. 
Again  she  spoke,  and  in  her  throat  again 
Barriers  fell,  closing  the  way  to  words. 
16 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

She  fought,  beat  down  the  barriers,  and  spoke. 
"You  say  you  dreamed.    You  say  you  dreamed  of 

rest 

After  your  arduous  toil,  of  ploughs  and  rakes 
And  other  matters  distance  bathes  in  charm 
And  man's  self-pity  likes  to  ponder  on 
In  mellow  twilights.     I  suppose  a  hen, 
Dreaming  of  pretty  chicks  four  long,  warm  weeks, 
Pities  herself  and  sighs  and  finds  life  full 
Of  disappointments  —  when  she  hatches  ducks. 
I  am  not  moved  by  pathos  of  that  sort. 
True,  I  am  hard.     Things  that  move  other  folk 
To  tears,  move  me  to  laughter.     There  you  are. 
If  you  would  keep  your  pretty  daydreams  warm 
You  must  not  set  them  where  my  boreal  blasts 
Will  blight  their  sweet,  young  lives.     You  dreamed, 

you  say. 

You  dreamed  of  me  and  of  the  children.     Ah ! 
Which  child  did  you  dream  most  of?    You  had 

three." 

She  heard  him  catch  his  breath  and  let  it  go 
Slowly,  with  a  reluctant,  sighing  sound. 
Softly,  with  venom,  she  repeated,  "Three, 
c  17 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

I  know  about  them  all.     Since  you  have  dreamed 
So  much  about  them,  thought  and  planned  so  much, 
Helped  me  so  much  to  make  them  good  and  great, 
I  should  be  glad  to  give  you  my  report. 
Orestes  is  in  Phocis  — " 

"Why?" 

"Because 
The  air  is  better  there." 

"What  does  that  mean?" 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.     "He  was  bundled  off 
A  week  ago  without  a  word  to  me 
To  spend  the  summer  —  so  Electra  said  — 
Because  the  air  was  better  there." 

"The  air?" 
"The  girl  was  sullen  when  she  said  it." 

"Strange." 

"Yes.     Very.     But  it  is  her  way.     At  times 
A  trying  person.     This  last  trick  of  hers 
Is  only  one  of  many.     I  believe 
She  really  cares  for  me ;  but  she  admits 
She  has  queer  fears  her  brother'll  come  to  harm 
Through  me  or  through  yEgisthus.     Possibly 
She  may  insinuate  the  thing  to  you. 
Forewarned,  forearmed." 
18 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

Her  voice  was  clear  and  cool. 
She  might  have  been  discussing  kitchen-maids. 
"I  have  reported  on  your  son,  I  think. 
Now  to  the  girls.     Remember,  you  had  two. 
Electra  will  be  ten  soon.     You  remember? 
You  went  to  Troy  three  months  before  she  came. 
You  said  you  would  be  back  in  time.     You  said 
Too  many  things  like  that.     For  I  believed  you. 
You  did  not  come." 

"I  could  not  come." 

"I  know. 

You  had  to  take  a  city.    Ah,  and  I 
Had  only  to  bring  forth  a  bit  of  life 
With  a  red  body  and  an  ancient  face. 
It  cried.     Perhaps  it  did  not  like  the  world. 
I  would  have  starved  it  had  it  been  a  boy, 
Or  set  him  in  the  shade  of  some  lean  tree, 
The  way  the  peasant-women  do,  and  let 
The  sun  creep  round  to  him  and  shrivel  him. 
But  since  it  was  a  girl  I  pitied  her 
And  gave  her  all  I  had,  against  the  day 
Of  hunger  sure  to  come."     She  spoke  the  words 
In  musical  and  mournful  monotone 
As  though  the  passions  that  they  whispered  of 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

Had  long  been  dead,  and  she  were  but  a  mourner 

Hired  to  bewail  an  unregretted  corpse. 

Then  without  warning  through  that  sultry  mood 

Once  more  her  bitterness  flashed  white  and  keen. 

"How  do  you  like  my  gay  report?     It  seems 

Two  children  are  accounted  for,  one  boy, 

One  girl.     You  had  another  child !     One  more !" 

Her  voice  rose.     "Did  that  hurt?    Another  child ! 

One  boy  and  two  —  two  girls.     I  can  report 

On  only  one  girl,  Agamemnon ! " 

"Stop! 
We  will  not  speak  of  that !"  he  cried. 

She  laughed 

With  fierce  derision.     "No,  of  course  not,  no ! 
We  have  a  conscience." 

Fiercely  he  replied : 

"The  gods  decreed  her  death,  not  I !    The  gods ! 
The  gods  demanded  and  I  had  to  give. 
My  conscience  is  quite  clear." 

A  bat  flew  in 

The  open  window  and  flew  out  again 
With  panic-stricken  flutter.     "Thus  it  was," 
He  cried.     "We  lay  at  Aulis.     Days  and  weeks 
We  lay,  sails  limp,  becalmed.     We  prayed  for  wind. 
20 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

We  sacrificed.     Sheep,  bulls.     In  vain.    At  last 

We  sent  old  Calchas  to  the  oracle, 

Calchas  the  seer.     When  he  returned,  his  face 

Was  like  a  dead  man's  as  he  stumbled  down 

The  lane  of  tents,  and  all  his  body  shook 

With  terror  and  fear.     I  thought  that  he  would  die 

Before  his  rattling  throat  would  yield  the  words 

The  oracle  had  spoken.     What  he  said  — " 

"Iphigeneia — " 

From  the  garden  came 
The  odor  of  white  moonflowers  opening, 
And  at  the  window  a  bright  firefly  danced, 
Fled  and  returned,  fled  and  returned  and  fled 
Seaward  away,  gay  parodist  of  souls. 
"You  know  the  rest.     No  wind  would  blow,  he 

said, 

Until  a  child  of  Agamemnon's  line 
Were  laid  upon  the  altar-block,  and  slain." 

"You  sent  me  word  Achilles  wished  to  wed 
Iphigeneia.     She  was  fourteen  then. 
Young,  young  to  wed,  I  thought.     But  in  those  days 
I  trusted  you.     I  sent  her.     Gods,  you  lied ! 
You  gave  her  to  be  slaughtered  like  a  goat, 
21 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

Slaughtered    that    kings    might    sail    on    a    fool's 

journey." 

She  stared  to  sea.     Her  bosom  rose  and  fell 
Deeply,  with  sighings,  like  the  sea's. 

He  spoke ; 

And  in  the  firm  voice  was  no  lying  strain 
Of  forced  assurance :  each  clear  word  rang  gold. 
"  The  gods  commanded.     I  obeyed.     The  gods 
Are  strange  but  mighty,  not  for  men  to  judge. 
They  see  where  we  are  blind.     Doubt  if  you  will, 
But  I  say  this,  I  feel  no  guilt  of  blood. 
My  conscience  is  un vexed." 

She  stared  at  him 

A  long,  slow  minute.     On  his  bearded  face 
The  light  of  stars  shone  faintly,  where  he  stood 
Erect  and  kingly,  looming  large  and  grand 
In  that  strange  childlikeness  her  arrows  sped 
Against  in  vain.     She  saw  each  fiery  shaft, 
Swift,  stern  and  straight,  fly  to  its  mortal  mark, 
And  marvelled,  seeing  how  it  struck,  and  lo, 
Sprang  back  and  fell,  made  impotent  by  some 
Unearthly  armor,  proof  against  her  skill. 
She  gazed  at  him  with  cool,  straight,  thoughtful 

gaze. 

22 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

"If  only  you  were  bad  at  heart,"  she  said, 
"I  might  find  words  to  make  your  soul  ashamed 
Of  the  bleak,  windy  ruin  you  have  made. 
But,  no.     You  are  not  bad.     You  are  a  child. 
You  play  your  games  and  break  so  many  things 
Unchidden,  that  at  last  when  you  destroy 
A  priceless  vase,  you  cannot  comprehend 
Why  there  are  tears  nor  wherein  lies  the  wrong. 
If  you  were  bad,  if  you  had  devious  ways, 
If  you  were  not  a  good  man,  with  clear  eyes, 
Seeing  one  road  and  that  road  white  and  straight ; 
If  you  had  any  shadows  in  your  soul 
For  plots  to  brew  in  and  black  hates  be  born, 
You  might  suspect  that  in  this  world  all  ways 
Are  not  straight  ways  or  clear  ways,  and  that  souls 
Are  like  deep  woods,  dark  and  mysterious 
Even  at  noonday.     You  are  blind  to  men, 
Blind  to  their  powers,  their  feeblenesses,  blind 
To  the  ten  thousand  tricks  life  lightly  plays 
With  souls  and  with  events.     You  did  not  dream 
That  when  you  battered  Troy  and  burnt  its  towers 
There  was  another  city,  not  of  stone, 
That  shook  beneath  your  onslaughts.     It  withstood 
A  long,  long  while,  and  then  at  last  it  fell. 
23 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

The  wind  is  whistling  in  the  ruins  now, 

Crying  strange  things  you  cannot  understand." 

Her  voice  was  steady,  cold  and  grave,  and  sad 

As  is  the  sea's  when  it  is  most  serene. 

It  made  the  throat  of  Agamemnon  beat 

And  choked  the  words  that  struggled  like  strong 

men 

Entombed,  upward,  for  air  and  utterance, 
And  strove  in  vain.     But  Clytaemnestra  turned 
Moodily  toward  the  sea  her  calm,  dark  eyes, 
That  were  themselves  immeasurable  seas 
Peopled  with  exquisite  arrows  of  white  light 
And  terrors  tentacled ;  and  spoke  once  more. 
"  Because  you  are  not  bad  at  heart,  I  hope 
That  you  will  never  know  what  you  have  done 
To  me  and  to  my  life.     Good  night.     Go  now. 
Go,  Agamemnon !" 

Through  the  calm,  cold  voice 
Passion  broke  headlong.     "  Go  !     I  tell  you,  go ! 
I    hate    you !     Go !    Oh,   gods,    gods,    make    him 

go- 

You  have  no  right  here !     Go,  you  have  no  right. 
Gods,  gods,  have  pity !    I  have  borne  enough 
These  years,  these  years !" 
24 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

Against  the  window-ledge, 
Half-fallen,   she  crouched.     He   strode  across   the 

room; 

Like  an  enveloping,  enormous  cloud 
He  came.     She  moaned  as  he  drew  near,  and  raised 
White,  warding  hands,  tense,  rigid,  frozen  hands, 
That  melted  to  limp  softness  as  he  pressed 
The  palms  together  and  imprisoned  them 
In  the  large  force  and  ardor  of  his  own. 
She  moaned,  "Go,  Agamemnon !"  with  faint  breath. 
But  tenderly,  with  warm,  persuasive  strength 
He  raised  her,  drew  her  toward  him.     Through  her 

limbs 

In  terror  that  was  half  delight,  she  felt 
The  gradual,  glad  yielding  of  tense  cords. 
He  whispered,  "  Cly taemnestra ! "  and  again, 
"Ah,  Clytaemnestra !  "  and  most  tenderly 
Stroked  the  damp  hair,  murmuring,   "Love,  my 

love!" 

It  seemed  to  her  the  sea  had  suddenly 
Risen  and  overwhelmed  them  in  the  surge 
Of  tumbling,  gliding  and  upheaving  waves. 
Above  the  world,  between  the  earth  and  stars, 
In  green  waves  rolled  and  on  slow  combers  borne, 
25 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

She  seemed  to  hang.    He  spoke.     She  heard  him 

speak ; 

Yet  only  as  one  hears  a  greater  wave 
An  instant  roar  above  the  monotone 
Of  the  incessant  surf.     "  Ah,  love,  look  up  ! 
My  love,  my  wife,  my  old,  dear  love  made  new !" 
Slowly,  long  after  they  were  said,  the  words 
Seemed  to  emerge  like  straight  ghosts,  one  by  one, 
Out  of  the  dark,  and  knock  upon  her  brain, 
And  through  some  dusky  door  ajar,  slip  in ; 
And  she  looked  up  and  found  his  eyes,  and  gazed 
Long,  feeling  wrongs  burn  up  like  straw,  and  years 
Like  dead  grass  on  a  windy  hill.     She  felt, 
One  after  one,  the  old,  bright  fires  start  up, 
Until  her  body  seemed  to  her  one  coal 
Of  pure  heat  and  unspotted  glow,  a  star 
For  his  encircling  ether,  a  deep  sea 
For  his  caressing  wind,  a  drowsy  cloud, 
An  iridescent,  bounding  bubble,  blown 
Skyward  by  him. 

She  fainted  in  his  arms. 

She  felt  cold  water  trickling  down  her  neck, 
And  with  reluctance  painfully  upraised 
26 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

The  iron  curtains  between  sleep  and  life 

And  opened  her  dark  eyes.     She  saw  herself 

Stretched  on  her  couch  and  at  her  side,  bent  low, 

Great  Agamemnon,  chafing  her  cold  hands. 

She  drew  her  hands  away  and  murmured,  "Go !" 

Most  piteously  always  that  one  word, 

"  Go ! "  like  the  moan  of  a  raw,  desolate  wind 

Crying  amid  bleak  ledges  and  dead  trees 

And  empty,  staring  houses.     Then  at  last 

She  rose  up  dizzily,  and  he  too  rose 

With  burning,  questioning  eyes.     But  on  his  arm 

She  laid  her  flame-like  hand.     "It  is  too  late," 

She  said.     "Too  late.    Too  late.    Too  late.    Too 

late." 

Her  voice  rose,  shivered,  shook,  surprised  by  sobs, 
Broke,  and  died  out  in  long-drawn,  ebbing  moans. 


27 


Ill 

Troubled,  bewildered,  lonely,  sick  at  heart, 
With  bowed  head,  Agamemnon,  king  of  men, 
Strode  down  the  corridor.     The  house  was  mute 
Save  for  his  footsteps.     In  the  banquet-hall 
Silence  upon  the  memory  of  song 
Made  its  own  banquet ;  other  revellers 
Were  none.     He  strode  across  the  hall  where  yet 
The  fumes  of  wine  hung,  and  the  Queen's  white  cat 
In  velvet  slippers  paced  the  marble  floor. 
She  hissed  at  Agamemnon  as  he  passed. 

He  crossed  the  porch.     Its  ancient  pillars  loomed 
Gigantic  as  the  shapes  of  fever-dreams 
Before,  beside,  behind.     It  seemed  to  him 
He  swept  them  from  his  path  and  they  returned, 
And  angrily  he  swept  them  from  his  path, 
Gaining  the  garden  like  some  hard-fought  shore. 

The  garden  greeted  him  with  music.     There 
Leaves  rustled  very  softly ;  and  so  full 
Of  cadenced  melody  the  insects  filled 
28 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

The  warm,  sweet  air,  that  all  the  song  they  made 
Seemed  nothing  else  than  singing  silence,  now 
By  some  sharp  ranter  of  the  cricket-clan, 
Now  by  some  wild  and  sooty  wing  in  flight, 
Broken  an  instant.     Solemnly  the  sea 
With  her  eternal  bass  accompanied 
Their  tender,  temporal  trebles,  and  a  wind 
At  intervals  came  lightly  from  the  east 
And  shuffled  all  the  notes  to  a  new  tune 
Of  cool,  faint  magic. 

Agamemnon  heard ; 

And  on  the  summit  of  the  gleaming  stair 
Stood  still,  caught  by  the  splendor  of  the  night, 
The  fragrance,  and  the  beauty  of  white  stars 
Set  in  the  dark,  translucent  bowl  of  heaven, 
The  beauty  of  still  tree- tops,  and  beyond, 
Of  a  forever  restless  sea.     A  glow 
Suffused  him  and  receded ;  standing  there 
Before  that  waste  of  pillars  rising  up, 
He  seemed  himself  a  frozen  shaft  of  stone, 
A  pillar,  holding  up  uncertainly 
A  structure  undermined.    He  raised  his  head 
Swiftly,  alert,  attentive ;  on  the  wind 
He  thought  he  caught  a  broken  snatch  of  talk, 
29 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

Like  a  twig  flying,  followed  by  loose  leaves. 
The  gust  fled  and  was  gone.     With  puzzled  brow, 
Attentive  ears  and  thoughtful,  lagging  pace, 
Heavily  he  descended  the  wide  steps. 

Aimlessly  and  yet  not  without  all  aim 
He  strode  along  the  garden-paths  that  wound 
In  calculated,  labyrinthine  coils 
Now  shell-like  in  upon  themselves,  now  out 
In  widening  circles  through  that  wide,  still  place 
Under  the  oleanders  and  the  olives, 
The  fig  tree  and  the  rose.    A  dozen  times 
He  stopped,  perplexed  and  distantly  amused 
At  the  incongruous  absurdity 
Of  disentangling  mazes  of  this  sort 
While  deeper  labyrinths  within  the  brain 
Asked  all  he  had  of  wisdom.     With  bowed  head, 
Aimlessly,  and  yet  not  without  all  aim, 
He  strode ;  for  at  long  intervals  the  wind 
Brought  disconnected  particles  of  talk 
In  two  strange  voices  and  one  voice  he  knew. 
At  last  he  fixed  the  thicket  whence  they  came, 
Stood  still  and  raised  his  head ;  then  straight  across 
The  wet  lawn  strode  and  found  the  labyrinth's  heart 
30 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

With  three  men  in  it  merged  in  one  gray  blur, 
Two  strangers  and  ^Egisthus. 

Motionless 

A  long  half  minute,  islanded  in  seas 
Of  honeysuckle  fragrance  on  the  wind 
Rising  and  falling  like  eternal  tides, 
The  four  men  stood.     Then  in  a  quiet  voice, 
Remote  from  anger  and  as  cold  as  swords 
Drawn  for  a  battle,  Agamemnon  spoke, 
"Dismiss  your  friends,  ^gisthus." 

To  the  south, 

Heat-lightning,  many-fingered,  flared  and  fell, 
Revealing  luridly  what  three  men  there 
Sought  in  the  dark  to  hide ;  the  fourth  saw  all, 
And  the  three  cringed  with  heads  each  close  to  each, 
Furtively  and  by  inches  drawing  back. 
But  Agamemnon  said,  "Dismiss  your  friends. 
You  stay."     ^Egisthus  whispered,  "  Go."    The  two 
Retreated,  and  were  gone.     Through  the  still  night 
The  sound  of  bushes  trampled  told  their  haste. 

Then,  breathing  deeply,  Agamemnon  spoke. 
"You  are  a  crafty  man,  ^Egisthus.     Far 
More  crafty  in  expedients  than  men 
31 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

Who    think    less    and    do  more.    But    there  are 

times 

When  minds  like  yours,  too  used  to  ways  around, 
Fail  to  discern  the  entrance  to  ways  through. 
You  should  have  murdered  me  this  afternoon." 

He  heard  ^Egisthus  gasp  and  try  to  speak  — 

''Before  I  set  a  foot  inside  my  house, 

Before  I  saw  you  or  saw  —  anyone, 

You  had  your  moment.     In  your  place,  I  think 

I  should  have  taken  it,  ^Egisthus.    Ah, 

You  think  so  too,  I'm  sure.     One  sees  such  things 

With  painful  clearness  when  it  is  too  late." 

Then  suddenly  ^Egisthus  raised  his  head 
As  at  a  challenge,  sniffed,  and  leisurely 
Folding  his  arms,  brought  his  satiric  eyes 
At  last  to  meet  the  eyes  that  questioned  them, 
And  to  reply  through  half-shut,  heavy  lids 
As  through  a  grating  that  conceals  the  soul. 
A  lazy  smile,  remotely  insolent, 
Curled  the  full  lips.     It  was  a  stalwart  face, 
Noble  of  feature,  flushed  and  crowned  with  curls ; 
And  Agamemnon,  in  that  dusky  grove 
32 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

Lit  only  by  the  stars  and  at  the  rim 

Of  sea  and  heaven  the  promise  of  the  moon, 

Wondered  why  memory  should  still  persist 

In  bearing  evidence  against  that  face. 

^gisthus  spoke.     His  voice  was  soft  and  clear 

And  every  syllable  a  bit  of  song, 

Carefully  made.     "  You  are  unjust,  absurd. 

You  see  three  men  together  in  the  dark, 

And  with  the  easy  vanity  of  kings 

Assume  at  once  they  plot  to  murder  you. 

You  are  grotesque.     This  is  no  army  camp. 

'Act  first  and  reason  after'  will  not  do." 

And  then  as  though  he  deemed  it  provident 

To  palliate  his  insolence  with  mirth, 

He  smiled ;  and  as  he  smiled,  it  seemed  his  face 

Glowed  with  an  overflowing  of  warm  light, 

Save  for  two  discs  of  jet,  white-ringed,  that  gleamed 

Like  cups  of  molten  tar.     Those  were  his  eyes. 

Unruffled,  Agamemnon  watched  the  smile 
Fade  out.     "The  secret  of  what  might  have  been 
If  in  my  mind  the  action  and  the  thought 
Had  moved  in  other  order  than  they  moved, 
Should  prove  in  years  to  come,  if  such  shall  be, 
D  33 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

A  green  field  for  your  ruminating  mind 

To  browse  and  flourish  in.     Tell  me  the  plot." 

^gisthus  smiled  a  slant,  satiric  smile. 

"  Come,  uncle.     You  are  getting  old.    And  bald. 

You  gained  much  fame  in  Troy,  and  lost  some  hair. 

They  say  Aunt  Helen  is  not  what  she  was. 

The  climate  must  be  bad." 

"Tell  me  the  plot." 

"The  little  conference  concerned  myself, 
Myself  alone.     Will  you  believe  me  ?" 

"No." 

"You  will  not  make  me  love  you  very  much." 
"Where  did  you  plan  to  murder  me?    My  bed? 
My  bath  ?    Where  ?    When  ?  " 

^Egisthus  answered  him 
With  a  low  laugh  that  had  no  mirth  in  it. 
But  Agamemnon  brought  his  great  hands  down 
Like  talons  on  his  shoulders,  holding  him 
Rigidly  as  a  buttress  holds  a  wall, 
While  with  his  eyes  he  scanned  the  crafty  face 
For  things  more  easy  to  translate  than  words. 
He  cried,  "You  are  not  one  to  murder  men 
Of  your  own  will.     Someone  has  sent  you !" 
34 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

"No!" 

A  quick  cry  broke  from  Agamemnon's  lips. 

"  Good !    That  was  truth.     Your  eye  said  that  was 

truth. 
Goon.     Who  were  those  men?" 

^Egisthus  raised 

His  restless  eyes  and  made  them  meet  unmoved 
The  eyes  of  Agamemnon.     Then  he  spoke. 
"Phoenician  merchants,  friends  of  mine  from  Sidon. 
They  have  a  ship.    They  carry  goods  for  me, 
Silk,  amber,  ivory  and  precious  gems 
From  Persian  markets.     They  arrived  to-night. 
There  lies  the  laden  ship  with  sails  yet  raised. 
They  came  to  tell  me  how  in  Babylon 
They  purchased  — " 

Agamemnon  loosed  his  hands 
And  with  a  thrust  of  undisguised  disdain 
Set  the  man  free.     "I  have  no  faith  in  you. 
I  think  that  you  are  lying." 

"As  you  will. 

The  fact  remains  whatever  plot  there  is 
Leads  not  to  you,  but  to  an  argosy 
At  anchor  in  the  bay.    As  for  yourself  — 
Why,  you're  my  uncle,  and  one  loves  one's  uncle." 
35 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

He  laughed  good-humoredly,  but  there  were  flaws 

In  the  soft,  calculated  laughter,  flaws 

Of  breathing  hampered  by  a  thumping  heart 

And  faithless  knees   that   would  not   cease   their 

quaking. 

And  Agamemnon  with  his  steady  eyes 
Watched  him  and  let  the  laughter  lamely  die, 
Then  like  a  bolt  of  lightning  spoke.     "  Enough. 
Let  us  leave  lies  a  moment  and  be  clear 
Concerning  what  has  been  and  what  shall  be 
Between  us  two,  ^Egisthus.     By  all  means 
Let  us  be  clear.     After  ten  years  of  war 
I  come  back  home,  and  find  a  man  I  know, 
And  neither  love  nor  honor,  in  my  house, 
Familiar  with  my  wife,  exchanging  looks 
Across  a  crowded  banquet-hall  with  her, 
Smiling  when  she  smiles,  troubled  at  her  frown ; 
Triumphant,  insolent ;  and  yet  afraid 
To  meet  the  question  in  a  husband's  eyes  — 
Let  us  be  clear.     I  find  my  wife  quite  changed. 
Women  may  change  in  ten  years.     I  grant  that. 
Women  may  change  although  there  be  no  guilt, 
Grow  old,  grow  ugly,  weary,  sick.     In  her 
There  is  a  deeper  change,  not  in  the  flesh, 
36 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

Not  in  the  spirit  only.     She  is  caged, 
^Egisthus.    There  are  walls  about  her,  bars !" 

Swiftly  the  parry  of  ^Egisthus  came : 
''True,  Agamemnon.     She  is  deeply  changed. 
Perhaps  she  has  been  dying  these  ten  years. 
You  and  not  I  may  be  the  murderer  here  — 
Who  knows?     She  loved  you,  Agamemnon.     Ah ! 
Stay  where  you  are !    If  you  must  play  the  judge, 
You  shall  be  just  and  hear  my  argument." 
His  voice  was  bold,  but  Agamemnon  laughed 
A  quick,  cold  laugh,  knowing  how  carefully 
That  voice  was  trained  to  seem  what  it  was  not. 
A  savage  wish  to  choke  it  for  all  time 
Made  his  head  burn,  his  fingers  twitch.     He  laughed 
Scornfully  as  before,  instead ;  and  watched 
Two  herons  winging  straightly  out  to  sea 
With  the  stars  over  them,  the  deep  beneath, 
Aching  with  sudden  envy.     Sharply  then 
He  turned  and  spoke.     "Say  what  you  have  to 
say." 

yEgisthus  looked  at  him  with  his  own  scorn. 
"There  are  some  matters  warriors  do  not  see 
Which  we,  who  cravenly  ward  hearth  and  farm, 
37 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

Learn  with  some  pain.     You  think  not?    Ah,  I 

know 

What  noble  Agamemnon  thinks  of  me ! 
Sneer,  sneer !    I  have  my  own  contempts ! " 

"  Take  care," 

Said  Agamemnon  in  a  quiet  voice. 
"These  are  large  issues  that  we  battle  over, 
^Egisthus.     Let  it  not  be  said  of  us 
That,  standing  at  the  very  knees  of  doom, 
We  were  so  far  forgetful  of  the  presence 
As  to  make  petty  warfare  with  shrill  words 
And  empty  fulminations." 

Mockingly 

^Egisthus  laughed.     "Let  us  be  dignified 
By  all  means,  if  it  seems  more  proper.     Listen. 
When  you  went  off  to  Troy  ten  years  ago, 
You  said  that  you  would  stay  a  month,  two,  three, 
No  more  than  three." 

"I  was  mistaken." 

"True. 

A  month  the  Queen  was  happy,  I  am  told. 
Then  she  began  to  hope  for  your  return, 
And  watch  for  sails  and  messengers  by  sea, 
And  messengers  by  land  and  beacon-fires  — " 

38 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

"I  had  no  messengers  to  spare." 

"  Indeed? 

She  did  not  know  it.     So  she  always  hoped, 
With  woman's  scorn  of  probabilities 
And  woman's  patience  and  unaltering  love." 

"Man,  leave  the  love  alone !" 

"Be  calm.     I  know 
Whereof  I  speak." 

"Goon." 

"Your  child  was  born 

The  third  month.     You  had  promised  to  be  home. 
You  were  not  home." 

" I  sent  a  man—  " 

"Ah,  yes. 

You  sent  two  messengers  that  month.     The  first 
Demanded  tidings,  but  the  other  called 
Iphigeneia  with  a  lying  lure  — " 

"These  things  are  Clytaemnestra's  and  my  own 
To  disentangle.     I  have  given  you  ear 
To  hear  your  story  of  this  death-in-life 
Whereof  you  call  me  guilty.     You  accuse, 
Accuse,  and  tell  me  nothing  that  makes  clear 
This  dungeoning  of  one  who  in  old  days 
39 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

Was  free  as  few  are  free.     What  I  suspect 
You  know.     A  thousand  fingers  point  at  you. 
But  they  are  phantom  fingers,  phantom  fears. 
I  cannot  make  them  real  or  trust  in  them. 
There  is  another  trust  that  fills  my  being 
And  will  not  let  fear  in.     Tell  what  you  know." 

^Egisthus  studied  him,  amused,  yet  awed. 

There  was  some  god's   bright   shield   before   that 

heart, 

Some  god's  hand  over  it.     Or  could  it  be 
Great  Agamemnon  was  thick-skinned  ?     He  laughed, 
Not  audibly,  but  in  the  galleries 
Where  undeceptive  with  himself  he  strode, 
He  laughed  at  Agamemnon's  elephant-hide. 
Submissively,  he  spoke :  v"  So  much  I  know : 
You    fought    at    Troy    and     took    no    count    of 

time. 

Days  came  and  went,  lit  by  the  flash  of  swords  — 
And  other  flashes  of  less  wounding  arms  — 
Months,     years,     dropped     unregarded.     No    one 

watched 

Their  coming  and  their  going  with  strained  eyes. 
But  here,  across  the  waters,  in  your  house, 
40 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

Was  one  who  lived  for  nothing  but  to  watch 

The  minutes  rise  in  hope  and  pass  in  pain. 

To  you  a  day  was  nothing,  but  to  her 

It  was  a  graveyard  where  at  dead  of  night 

Dogs  congregate  and  fight  and  howl."     His  voice 

Was  deeply  eloquent.     A  swift  flame  ran 

Along  its  perfect  music,  warming  it ; 

And  Agamemnon  wondered  distantly 

Why  something  in  him  turned  toward  this  keen 

knave 

In  sudden  sympathy.     "Go  on,"  he  said. 
^Egisthus  spoke  again,  and  now  the  words 
Were  soft  and  swift  like  birds  upon  the  wind. 
"The  hours  were  years,  the  days  were  long  lives 

spent 

In  learning  and  re-learning  lessons  —  how 
To  hope  and  be  resigned  and  still  to  hope, 
To  love  and  long  and  yet  to  keep  this  flesh 
Unfaded  for  the  half-despaired  return 
To-night,  to-morrow  or  a  thousand  nights 
Beyond  to-morrow.     What  those  long  nights  were 
One  heart  and  one  heart  only  knows." 

"True,  true," 
Said  Agamemnon. 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

"Not  one  month ;   ten  years 
Day  came  in  hope  and  died  in  misery. 
Ten  years  of  days  ascending  and  descending ! 
Count  them,  great  Agamemnon.     Count  the  hours, 
The  minutes,  like  an  endless,  thin,  white  line, 
Stretching  across  the  desert,  never  still 
In  sunlight  or  in  moonlight,  from  some  far 
And  cruel  quarry  to  some  pyramid 
A  frightened  pharaoh  builds  to  bury  his  fear. 
The  minutes  carry  stones  upon  their  backs, 
Great  Agamemnon !    Ah,  they  carry  stones 
For  man  to  build  his  houses  with,  his  tombs, 
His  temples  —  and  his  cages."     On  the  air 
The  eloquent  voice  a  moment  seemed  to  hang, 
Echoing ;  then  the  music  of  the  night 
A  long  time,  undisputed,  held  that  dark 
And    fragrant     thicket,    where     two    men    stood 

mute, 

Each  wondering  what  thoughts  were  galloping 
Along  the  highways  of  the  other's  mind. 
The  sea  sent  her  slow  waves  against  the  land 
Uncounted  times ;  far  out  a  gull  went  by, 
Calling,  and  close  at  hand  a  cricket  cut 
The  soft,  pervasive  hum  with  rasping  chirp. 
42 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

But  Agamemnon  did  not  hear  these  things. 
There  was  an  inner  music  that  drowned  all 
External  sound,  as  one  by  one  harsh  chords 
Amazingly  resolved  themselves  in  clear 
And  unperplexing  harmony.     He  breathed 
Deeply.     His  body  seemed  to  throw  off  chains. 
Fear  vanished,  hate,  distrust,  suspicion,  all 
That  like  a  fever-dream  had  lain  on  him 
Uprose,  dissolved.     Here  was  the  tangle,  cleared. 
How  blind,  how  like  the  mass  of  common  hearts 
To  flare  with  low  suspicions,  thrust  faith  out 
And  open  doors  and  windows  wide,  for  fear 
To  enter  with  his  demons.     Ah,  how  base, 
How  faithless  so  to  harbor  love's  worst  foe 
And  give  him  food  and  drink  and  listening  ears ! 
Where  love  is,  there  can  be  no  jealousy. 
Lust  may  be  jealous,  but  not  love ;  for  lust 
Is  all  a  seizing  and  a  clasping  close 
Of  slippery  gems ;  but  love  is  open  hands 
And  quiet  eyes  and  self -forgetful  dreams. 
Her  very  love  for  him  had  changed  his  wife, 
Turned  her  to  stone,  imprisoned  her  in  deeps 
Where  bitterness  was  gaoler  and  the  hours 
His  tireless  ministers  of  torture.    Thus 
43 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

The  years  would  change  a  woman.     Had  he  known 
A  little  better  how  a  woman's  heart 
Is  intricately  fashioned  to  feel  pain, 
And  to  create  out  of  the  lonely  dark 
Shapes  more  malignant  and  more  fierce  to  fright 
Than  any  phantom  that  the  Styx  rejects, 
For  him,  Troy  might  have  kept  its  lovely  prize 
And  fallen,  if  it  must,  of  its  own  shame. 
If  he  had  known !    Indeed,  he  had  not  known. 
And  Troy  was  level  as  the  sea,  but  here 
Was  wilder  devastation  wrought  on  her 
He  would  have  died  defending  had  he  known. 
He  watched  the  east  grow  silvery  with  the  pale, 
Bright  harbingers  that  ran  before  the  moon ; 
And  as  he  watched,  it  seemed  to  him  the  night 
Was  not  more  filled  with  wonder  and  deep  calm 
Than  his  own  being,  cleared  at  last  of  doubts 
And  by  the  winds  of  understanding  cleansed. 
He  held  the  secret  of  her  anger  now ; 
The  black  enigma  of  that  lost,  "Too  late !" 
That  ran  like  acid  burning  over  him, 
Was  solved.     Of  course,  to  one  remembering 
Those  years  of  slow  corrosion  from  within, 
It  must  indeed  seem  bitter  raillery 
44 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

To  speak  of  hope,  or  deem  that  kisses  could 

Rekindle  the  cold  embers  on  the  hearth. 

Of  course,  of  course,  now  it  was  all  quite  clear, 

And  flying  looks  meant  nothing.     How  absurd 

Ever  to  think  they  could  mean  anything ! 

^Egisthus  was  not  bad ;  somewhat  a  fool, 

And  irritating  with  his  insolence 

And  his  infernally  melodious  voice ; 

But  never  base.     His  father  had  been  base 

And  led  him  into  bypaths  in  his  youth, 

Treason,  rebellion ;  but  all  that  was  past, 

Dead,  buried  and  forgotten.     Since  those  days 

The    man    had    grown,    perhaps.     He    had    much 

charm. 

And  there  was  eloquence  in  his  defence 
Of  Clytaemnestra's  empty,  tragic  years. 
Yes,  more  than  eloquence  —  warmth,  tenderness, 
And  shining  wells  he  had  not  thought  were  there. 
He  turned  to  tell  him  so. 

The  man  was  gone. 


45 


IV 

A  nightingale  broke  into  song  and  trilled 
Her  careless  bar  of  world-forgetting  love. 
But  Agamemnon  did  not  hear  that  music. 
He  staggered  like  a  man  struck  in  the  dark 
By  thieves,  crying,  "yEgisthus?     Are  you  there? 
What  game  is  this?    ^Egisthus !"     Far  away 
He  heard  an  owl  hoot.     On  his  flesh,  like  snails, 
He  seemed  to  feel  the  tangible  Fear  creep. 

Out  of  that  thicket  like  a  bull  he  broke, 

Roaring  and  crazed  with  pain.    He  snapped  the 

boughs 

That  struck  him  in  the  face ;  with  savage  hands 
He  thrust  them  back  and  broke  them,  recklessly 
Stalking  through  beds  and  bushes,  treading  down 
A  thousand  flowers,  and  crushing  underfoot 
A  score  of  dreams  his  crafty  gardener 
Had  made  to  live  and  blossom  and  give  odor. 
His  being  was  a  hell  of  hooting  tongues. 
This  was  the  end  of  things,  this  was  the  end. 
He  need  not  fear  or  question  any  more ; 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

He  need  not  hope  or  struggle ;  for  all  time 

Transcendent  certainty  had  made  an  end 

Of  every  torturing  perplexity. 

"  Ah,  Clytaemnestra ! "     Through  his  stormy  veins 

The  name  ran  like  a  runner  with  a  brand, 

Calling  to  war.     He  stood  still.     With  his  arms 

He  shut  the  sea  out  from  his  eyes,  he  shut 

The  garden,  the  wide  world  out ;  with  sick  heart 

Crying  to  memory  to  recreate 

The  unmysterious  face  of  other  days. 

Out  of  the  darkness  of  his  soul  it  came, 

With  eyes  wide  open. 

Gradually  now 

The  storm  subsided  in  him,  in  its  wake 
Leaving  obtrusive  wreckage,  and  below, 
Drags  and  outgoing  currents.     Up  and  down 
The  broad,  white  garden-path  that  faintly  gleamed 
In  the  amazing  light  of  stars,  he  strode, 
The  huge  form  feeling  pitifully  small, 
The  wise  man  baffled,  and  the  lover  torn 
By  jackals  for  a  loathsome  feast.     The  moon 
Slowly  uprose  southeastward  from  the  sea, 
A  floating  blur  of  silver  light.     He  faced 
Its  womanly  beauty  half  defiantly, 
47 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

Hands  clasped  behind  and  heavy  shoulders  sunk, 
A  black,  enormous  bulk  against  the  pale 
Shimmer  and  watery  gleam. 

Through  the  far  dark 
He  saw  a  white  form  run,  a  slender  form 
Run  down  a  distant  garden-path,  a  ghost 
For  pallor,  a  white  doe  for  speed,  a  sprite 
For  springy,  shy  and  wind-blown  loveliness. 
Down   broad,   white   steps   and   down   the   broad, 

white  path 

Whereon  he  stood,  now  hesitant,  now  swift, 
And  now  at  last  with  slow  steps  on  tiptoe 
And  half-choked  noises  between  laughter  and  gasps, 
Tremblingly  it  drew  near. 

"Daddy!" 

" My  girl!" 

She  sprang  into  his  arms  and  clung  to  him 
With  happy  words  and  wriggle  of  light  limbs, 
And  dovelike,  cooing  sounds.    He  drew  her  close, 
Welcoming  her  with  kisses  and  the  strength 
Of  his  great  arms  about  her,  and  faint  words 
Half-said,  half-sobbed.     She  was  like  dawn  to  him. 
With  his  own  garment's  folds  he  covered  her, 
And  held  her  feet  and  warmed  them,  and  her  hands 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

And  laid  them  on  his  lips.    Her  loose,  black  hair 
Blew  lightly  like  a  scarf  across  his  face 
And  made  him  dizzy  with  the  scent  of  it, 
For  it  was  like  her  mother's.     Tenderly 
He  took  the  strands  and  laid  them  on  her  head. 
She  seemed  a  thing  unearthly,  and  almost 
He  asked  her,  not  all  playfully,  what  god 
Had  sent  her  from  Olympus  to  this  dark 
And  vexed  house  to  guide  bewildered  souls 
Out  of  the  mazes  they  themselves  had  drawn. 
He  did  not  ask  it  lest  he  puzzle  her 
And  mar  the  perfect  calm  of  those  large  eyes. 
"Young  ladies  should  be  tight  abed,"  quoth  he, 
"Three   hours   or   more.     Since   when   do   we   ex 
plore 

The  garden  in  our  nightgown?"     She  looked  up. 
The  moon  shone  on  her  face.    A  serious  face, 
Thought  Agamemnon,  a  sad,  aged  face. 
And  she  was  not  quite  ten  years  old.     She  spoke. 
"I  saw  you  from  my  window  —  and  I  thought  — 
You  were  somebody  else."    There  was  a  hint 
Of  fear  in  her  clear  voice.     "Who  else?"  he  asked. 
"  Whom  else  would  my  young  ladyship  pursue 
Down  moonlit  garden-paths,  attired  like  this?" 
E  49 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

She  turned  away.     "^Egisthus,"  she  replied, 
In  low,  sharp  tones. 

He  gasped,  and  on  a  bench, 
Backed  by  high  roses,  fronted  by  the  sea, 
Sat  down  and  drew  his  burden  close.      "^Egisthus," 
He  whispered.     " Why  ^gisthus ?      At  this  hour?" 
He  felt  her  bosom  rise  and  fall  again 
And  rise  and  fall  before  at  last  she  spoke. 
"I  am  afraid  of  him." 

"Afraid?    Quick!    Why?" 
His  voice  was  violent. 

"I  was  afraid 
That  he  might  hurt  you." 

"  Why  ?     Quick !    Tell  me  why 
You  were  afraid.     Why  should  ybu  be  afraid  ? 
Quick !    Tell  me,  quick,  why  should  you  be  afraid  ?  " 

He  saw  her  eyes  fill  and  grow  dark  with  tears. 
"What  have  I  said?"  she  asked  bewildered.     "Ah, 
What  have  you  said?"  he  cried.     "What  have  you 

said?" 
He  gasped.     "Nothing."    He  stroked  her  heavy 

hair. 
"Forgive  me.     I  am  harsh  and  rough.     My  life 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

Has  been  a  soldier's  life.  Such  flowers  as  you 
Should  not  be  trusted  to  such  hands  as  mine." 
"Why  not?" 

"For  many  reasons.     First,  because 
Rough  hands  might  break  a  petal  off ;  and  last, 
Because  the  hands  that  touched  what  these  have 

touched 
Do  not  deserve  to  come  so  near  to  childhood." 

"I'll  tell  you  why  I  was  afraid,"  she  said. 

Gently  he  laid  his  hand  upon  her  mouth. 

"Not  now,"  he  whispered.     "Some  day,  but  not 

now. 

We  must  be  wise.     We  must  be  very  wise. 
Before  we  say  a  wofti  we  must  be  sure 
We  know  the  demons  that  reside  in  it, 
And  can  pronounce  the  magic  formula 
That  will  bewitch  them  back  into  their  caves 
When  we  are  done  with  them." 

"How  sad  you  sound  !" 

"Not  sad,  my  heart.     But  old.     Old  as  those  stars. 
And  they  are  older  than  all  living  things, 
All  houses  and  all  temples  and  all  gods, 
Older  than  Zeus's  father.     They  rode  there 
51 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

Before  Deucalion  was,  or  Uranos 

Or  Chronos,  father  of  the  years.     Some  day 

I  shall  be  just  a  little  heap  of  dust, 

And  then  a  few  years  more,  you  will  be  dust, 

And  all  your  children  and  your  children's  babes, 

All  of  them  will  be  dust ;  but  those  white  ships 

Will  still  be  sailing  nightly,  and  in  worlds 

That  have  forgotten  Agamemnon  —  yes, 

And  even  sweet  Electra  —  men  will  still 

Watch  their  slow  journey  through  that  waveless 

deep, 

And  holding  close  their  little  girls  be  glad 
That  in  this  grim,  sad  world  there  still  are  stars." 
His  voice  died  slowly,  lingering  on  the  words 
As  though  the  thought  of  those  untroubled  orbs 
Brought  such  warm  comfort,  such  inflowing  strength, 
He  could  not  bear  to  let  the  silence  have  it 
And  with  its  many  fingers  throttle  it 
Before  his  eyes. 

"Why  are  you  shivering?" 

A  child  voice  asked.     "Dear  Daddy,  are  you  cold? 
It  really  isn't  cold  to-night.     It's  warm. 
Perhaps  somebody  walked  across  the  place 
Your  grave  is  going  to  be.     That  might  be  it. 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

Once  mother  shivered,  and  I  told  her  that, 

And  she  said,  'Yes,  I'm  very  sure  of  it'  — 

Like  that.     I  asked  her,  'Where  d'you  think  it  is?' 

She  didn't  answer  for  a  long,  long  time. 

And  then  at  last  she  said,  '  My  grave  is  Troy, 

And  I  am  buried  there.'     Wasn't  that  queer? 

I  wonder  what  she  meant?" 

Her  voice  died  out 

In  dreamy  contemplation  of  the  heavens, 
Now  frosted  over  by  the  far-blown  breath 
Of  storm,  pursuing  the  veiled  moon.     Her  eyes 
Were  large  and  dark  as  Clytaemnestra's  own  — 
"When  people  die,  they're  buried  or  they're  burned," 
The  child  went  on.     "They  don't  walk  any  more, 
Except  as  ghosts.     And  they  don't  do  that  much. 
But  mother's  often  said  that  she  was  dead, 
Not  as  a  joke  at  all,  but  solemnly 
As  though  she  really  wanted  me  to  know 
And  was  afraid  I  might  not  understand. 
I  asked  yEgisthus  once,  but  he  just  laughed 
And  told  me  a  long  story  how  a  king, 
Admetus  was  his  name,  let  his  wife  die, 
And  Heracles,  just  happening  along, 
Heard  all  about  it  and  went  down  to  where 
53 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

Dead  people  go,  and  fetched  her  back  again. 
And  he  was  Heracles,  he  said." 

She  screamed 

With  sudden  pain.     "  Daddy !    You  hurt  my  foot. 
You  dug  your  nails  deep  in ! " 

He  made  no  sound. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  moment,  holding  her, 
That  all  nobility,  all  life  had  left 
Of  worth  and  honor  found  its  end  in  this : 
To  keep  this  child  unscarred  by  strife  not  hers, 
And  uninvaded  by  his  woe  her  heart. 
He  bent  low  over  her  and  kissed  her  hair 
Whispering  tender,  broken  words. 

The  tears 

Rushed  from  her  eyes  as  though  a  dam  had  broken. 
"Don't,   don't!"   he  gasped.     She  tried  to  check 

them  then, 

And  choked,  coughing  and  writhing  in  his  arms, 
Struggling  for  breath  and  pitifully  groaning. 
He  drew  her  close  and  closer,  uttering 
Strange,  inarticulate  and  throaty  sounds, 
Half  human  moan  and  half  the  blood-choked  roar 
Of  a  death-smitten  lion.     Lacking  words, 
He  touched  her  hair,  her  brow,  her  hands,  her  feet. 
54 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

Her  sobbing  ceased  at  last.     She  wiped  her  tears 
On  Agamemnon's  crimson  cloak-of-kings. 
"I  don't  know  why  I  cry  this  way,"  she  said. 
" Do  you?" 

Over  her  startled  face,  his  eyes 
Burned  with  the  savagery  of  blank  despair. 
He  spoke,  but  not  to  her.     His  glance  went  out 
Over  the  sea  into  the  deeps  of  night. 
To  the  dark  night  he  spoke  or  to  his  soul, 
Lost  in  the  black  upbillowings  of  far  storms 
On  the  moon-washed  horizon ;   not  to  her. 
"I  know,  I  know !     We  are  betrayed,  we  two ! 
I  did  not  easily  believe.     Ah,  sweet, 
I  did  not  lightly  trust,  I  did  not  give 
Jealousy  easy  entrance  to  my  heart. 
I  saw,  I  heard,  and  doubted  sight  and  hearing. 
I  saw,  I  heard  again,  and  still  I  said, 
This  is  some  blemish  in  yourself,  some  blur 
On  your  own  vision,  in  your  own  hid  depths 
Some  ugly  sediment  of  falsity, 
Roiled  up  by  life  estranged  from  nobleness 
And  women  high  and  true.     I  could  not  doubt. 
There  were  too  many  memories.     You  see, 
We  married  very  young,  and  we  were  happy. 
55 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

Some  day,  perhaps,  when  you  are  grown,  some  day, 

When  love,  like  dawn  uprising  from  the  sea, 

Suffuses  all  you  call  the  world  with  light, 

And  makes  your  face  a  glory  that  young  men 

Will  capture  kingdoms  for,  and  aged  men 

Remember  like  the  guiding  words  of  gods, 

That  day,  if  I  am  living,  you  shall  hear 

What  stuff  those  memories  were  builded  of, 

And  why  it  took  the  heavy  rams  of  doubt 

So  long  to  batter  them,  and  what  it  meant 

To  see  the  structure  crumble." 

She  looked  up. 

Their  eyes  met,  and  once  more  hers  filled  with  tears. 
"What  is  it  mother  did?"  she  asked. 

He  gasped, 

And  once  again  he  felt  the  furies  run 
Along  his  veins  and  make  his  body  burn 
And  his  head  tingle  and  go  suddenly  light 
And  float  in  murky  air  through  an  unreal  world 
Full  of  mad,  humming  things.     He  pressed  her  close. 
"Now  go  to  bed.     You  mustn't  wake  to-night. 
You  must  sleep  sound  all  night.     Sleep,  sleep  and 

dream. 

All  night.     You  hear  ?    All  night." 
56 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

" Why,  Daddy?" 

"Why?" 

His  voice  was  hushed  and  tremulous  and  mad. 
''Because  there  is  a  harpist  at  the  gate 
Who  will  come  in  soon  and  walk  down  the  halls, 
Playing  the  sad  song  of  the  end  of  things  — 
The  end  of  youth,  the  end  of  beauty,  the  end 
Of  joy  and  love  and  faith.     Ah,  sweet,  sleep  sound, 
Lest,  through  the  curtain  of  faint  sleep,  you  hear 
His  blighting  music,  and  before  your  time, 
Before  love  comes,  before  joy  comes,  or  faith, 
Know  them  for  what  they  are." 

He  kissed  her  brow, 

Her  cheeks,  her  eyes,  her  hair.     She  clung  to  him. 
About  his  neck  she  threw  her  bare,  white  arms, 
Clasped  her  white  hands,  and  would  not  be  dis 
lodged, 

Though  he  upbraided  her  with  fierce,  wild  words, 
Battling  for  freedom  from  her  tenderness. 
She  gasped  for  breath.     "You'll  have  to  cut  my 

hands. 
I  won't  let  go." 

"I  say  you  shall!" 

"I  won't!" 
57 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

He  struggled,  tearing  at  her  wrists.  .  "You  shall !" 
"You  hurt  me  so,"  she  moaned,  "you  hurt  me  so." 
"Let  go!" 

"No,  no !    I  am  afraid  for  Mother." 

His  hands  fell  and  he  sobbed.     His  great  frame  shook 

As  houses  shake  in  storms,  and  heavily 

He  sank  down  on  the  bench  and  stared  across 

The  pitiless,  hard  blackness  of  the  sea, 

Sobbing  gigantically,  with  no  tears 

To  soothe  the  raw,  red  anguish. 

Overhead 

Behind  uprising  vapors,  the  bright  stars 
Were  dim  now,  and  the  warm  night  was  the  moon's, 
Where  like  a  vague  and  ghostly  brig  it  sailed 
Through  troubled  seas  and  made  the  cloudbank  glow. 
Electra  laid  her  cheek  against  his  cheek, 
Uttering  sounds  that  had  their  deep  intent 
Though  language  knew  them  not.    He  caught  their 

sense, 

And  gradually  as  a  storm  subsides 
His  sobs  went  out  in  silence.     Gently  then 
He  rubbed  the  hurt  hands,  murmuring,  "Protector ! 
Protector  of  us  both  !    Ah,  watchful  heart, 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

Protecting  us  who  called  you  to  this  rough 
And  troubled  world,  and  made  no  bower  for  you 
To  bide  in  even  a  little  span  of  years, 
Apart  from  the  fierce  noise  and  passion  of  life. 
Am  I  betrayed  ?     Have  we  betrayed  each  other, 
Your  mother  and  I  ?     You  are  betrayed,  not  we. 
For  we  forgot  you,  fighting  for  vain  things, 
And  lavishing  such  pity  on  ourselves, 
We  had  none  left  for  you  who  needed  pity 
And  were  too  young  to  know  it." 

Tenderly 

He  pressed  the  hand  that  lay  upon  his  shoulder, 
Light  as  a  poplar  leaf.     "You  are  betrayed, 
Not  she  nor  I,  save  as  one  fault  in  both 
Betrayed  us  both.     You  with  your  loving  heart, 
Your  wise  mind  and  your  body  like  a  stem 
A  lily  nods  on,  you,  my  flower,  my  bird, 
You  are  betrayed.     All  that  asked  light  in  you, 
All  that  asked  love  in  you  and  wanted  mirth 
And  quiet,  growing  days,  all  is  betrayed." 

She  raised  her  large,  dark  eyes  and  gazed  at  him 
In  puzzled  wonder.     "Sleep,  my  heart,"  he  said. 
"  You  shall  have  love  at  last,  you  shall  have  love." 
59 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

She  sighed  and  smiled  and  closed  her  eyes,  and 

sighed 

As  though  she  were  releasing,  one  by  one, 
Troubles  and  pains  and  plaguing  memories, 
And  was  not  sad  to  have  the  sultry  air 
Receive  them  and  absorb  them  and  at  last 
Whisk  them  on  some  quick  gust  out  of  her  world. 
She  squeezed  the  ringers  resting  on  her  hand, 
And  then  withdrew  her  hand  and  let  it  hang 
Like  a  slim  iris,  drooping  at  her  side, 
Ever  so  faintly  whitened  by  the  moon. 
He  stroked  her  hair  with  slow  and  steady  strokes, 
Watching  the  face  upon  his  arm  with  eyes 
That  had  a  hungry,  lost  forsaken  look, 
More  like  a  lion's  than  a  man's,  so  much 
Of  blank,  uncomprehending  misery 
Shone  greenly  in  them. 

And  at  last  she  slept. 

But  still  he  stared  at  the  pale,  peaceful  face, 
Dumb,  save  at  last  for  one  low,  long-drawn  moan 
Like  a  dog's  howl  when  ghosts  are  in  the  air. 
And  then  he  rose  and  very  tenderly 
Bore  her  across  the  garden,  up  the  steps, 
Across  the  pillared  porch  into  the  house. 
60 


Beside  the  window,  shaken  as  a  ship 

After  a  gale  that  has  dismasted  her, 

Still  sobbing  softly,  Clytaemnestra  stood. 

There  was  no  passion  in  her  sobbing  now, 

No  hate  or  scorn  or  anger,  only  grief, 

Rising  and  falling  in  melodious  moans 

So  regular  and  so  mechanical 

They  might  have  been  the  meaningless,  last  sounds 

The  body  utters  when  the  heart-beats  end 

And  all  the  great  machinery  stands  still. 

She  watched  the  slow  waves.    They  were  like  the 

hours 
The    dead    know,    and    she    knew,    each    like    to 

each 

Out  of  the  dark  deep  rising,  but  to  sink 
In  the  brown  sand  and  leave  no  trace  behind. 
She  wondered  whether  Agamemnon  too 
Were  standing  by  some  window,  sick  at  heart, 
Watching  the  waters  come  and  go,  and  hearing 
Their  tragic,  foreign  music,  unappeased, 
Remembering  other  days.     It  seemed  to  her 
61 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

She   heard    the   world's   heart   beat   beneath   her 

window ; 

And  wondered  whether  he  too  heard  it.     Ah, 
What  did  it  say  to  him  ?    What  was  there  left 
For  any  wind  or  any  sea  to  say 
To  her  or  him,  that  they  two,  who  had  seen 
Love  rise  in  glory  and  go  down  in  shame, 
Did  not  already  know  ? 

She  caught  her  breath. 

What  did  he  know,  how  much  had  he  divined  ? 
He  would  not  easily  mistrust.     Perhaps, 
There  was  yet  time  for  those  pink  dreams  of  his 
To  cover  evening  with  their  afterglow ; 
Perhaps  they  were  not  utterly  a  child's 
Unreasoned  hope ;  perhaps,  for  hearts  grown  wise, 
There  was  a  second  sweet,  diminished  glory 
Not  utterly  unlike  the  first.     She  watched 
The  moon  rise  like  a  luminous,  veiled  face 
Out  of  the  heavy  cloudbank,  wondering 
Whether  he  too  were  watching  it  somewhere 
And  feeling  in  his  breast  this  same  dull  pain 
Of  protest  against  loveliness.    Ah,  yes ! 
There  was  a  bond  as  firm  as  rapture  shared, 
And  that  was  common  misery.     Perhaps, 
62 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

Out  of  the  wreckage,  he  and  she  might  yet 
Hammer  and  patch  together  some  frail  raft 
To  carry  them,  if  winds  were  favoring, 
To  some  shore  not  too  desolate.     Perhaps  — 
A  step  upon  the  threshold.     Then  a  voice : 
"Where  are  you,  Cly  taemnestra  ?  " 

She  cried  out. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  round  about  her  there 
The  pillars  of  the  world  shook,  swayed  and  fell. 
It  was  ^Egisthus ! 

"  Cly  taemnestra?" 

"Yes? 

What  do  you  want,  what  do  you  want  of  me  ? 
Do  not  come  near  me  !  Do  you  hear  ?  I  say, 
Stay  where  you  are !  What  do  you  want?" 

"He  knows." 

She  drew  her  breath  in  with  a  ghastly  sound 
Like  a  death-rattle.     Agamemnon  knew. 
This  was  the  end  of  pink  dreams.     What  remained 
Was  of  another  color  not  so  fair. 
She  heard  ^Egisthus  panting  noisily. 
The  man  was  frightened.     What  a  joke,  a  joke, 
That  she,  a  queen,  she,  Clytaemnestra,  she 
With  all  her  splendor,  beauty,  vision,  power, 

63 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

She  should  be  subject  to  a  coward,  whose  hand 
Even  though  it  trembled  could  shake  down  a  world ! 
So  to  be  mastered  by  one's  own  creation ! 

She  looked  at  him.     The  lamp  had  long  gone  out. 
But  from  the  southern  heaven  the  clouded  moon 
Glowed  through  thick  veils,  and  showed  her  lover's 

face. 

Her  lover  !    Ah,  the  mockery !    Her  lover 
Was  out  there  somewhere  in  the  dark,  alone, 
Tearing  the  memories  like  teeth  diseased 
Savagely  from  their  lodgment,  root  and  blood, 
Not  this  man,  ah,  not  this  man. 

With  quick  steps 
He  crossed  the  room.     She  shrank  from  him.    His 

face 

Was  wan  and  nervous,  every  muscle  strained, 
The  eyes  delirious,  the  lower  lids 
Purple  and  quivering  like  summer  dusks 
With  ceaseless,  far  heat-lightning.     The  gay  grace, 
The  lordliness,  the  fine  Apollo-air, 
The  self-regard,  the  swaggering  contempt, 
The  pride,  the  fire  —  there  was  no  trace  of  these. 
Here  there  was  only  fear  and  turbulent  haste 
64 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

Without  direction,  passion  without  will, 
Madness  without  the  courage  of  the  mad. 
And  Clytaemnestra  looked  at  him,  and  laughed. 

He  clutched  her  arm.     "Why  do  you  laugh  like 

that? 

I  saw  him.     And  I  saw  his  eyes.     He  said 
We  should  have  murdered  him  this  afternoon. 
I  thought  you  would  stop  soon." 

"Did  he  say  that?" 

The  laughter  ceased  indeed.     "If  he  said  that, 
Why  am  I  still  alive?" 

He  bit  his  lip 

To  fight  the  terror  down,  and  tossed  his  head 
With  something  of  the  old,  contemptuous  scorn, 
Kindling  his  cattish  eyes.     "I  told  him  tales, 
Told  him  a  pretty  story  of  your  woes, 
And  told  it  with  such  eloquence,  I  swear, 
I  half  believed  myself  you  were  the  clean 
And  estimable  pattern  of  wronged  wives 
That  I  depicted.     Oh,  it  was  well  done. 
Some  day  I'll  write  it  down,  if  to  my  wit 
Be  added  length  of  days  which,  thanks  to  you, 
Seems  dubious  just  now."    His  voice  was  hard, 

F  6S 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

And  there  were  knives  in  every  note  of  it. 
But  Clytsemnestra  smiled,  not  scornfully, 
But  as  a  titan,  armed  to  fight  the  gods, 
Might  smile  at  pygmies,  busy  with  their  swords 
About  his  ankles,  while  upon  the  hills 
He  sat  and  waited  for  the  gods  to  come. 
A  sudden  calm  was  on  her  like  the  calm 
Of  glacial  ice.    The  light  fell  on  her  face, 
And  made  it  look  like  marble  breathed  upon 
By  some  unearthly  goddess  of  disdain, 
So  white,  so  calm,  it  seemed  a  sledge  might  shatter 
The  chiselled  head  and  on  the  fragments  yet 
That  look  of  cold,  indomitable  calm 
Remain  to  startle  men.     /Egisthus  watched 
The  grandeur  grow  upon  her ;  where  he  stood, 
A  shadow  amid  shadows,  pantingly 
Striving  to  scoff  the  quiver  from  his  knees, 
He  watched  that  woman  of  the  aimless  years, 
This  woman  he  had  patted,  patronized, 
Sneered  at  and  kissed  and  made  a  mistress  of, 
Grow  into  something  huge,  colossally 
Removed  from  him  who  once  had  been  so  sure 
He  was  the  titan,  she  the  little  fool. 
11  What  are  you  waiting  for  ?  "    His  voice  was  coarse. 
66 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

All  the  old  music,  all  the  arrogant, 
Persuasive  eloquence  was  gone  from  it. 
"  Where  is  your  cloak?" 

"My  cloak?" 

" For  flight." 

"For  flight?" 

She  laughed  a  distant  and  sardonic  laugh. 
"With  you?" 

"Of  course  with  me.  I  have  a  boat 
Below  the  garden.  Quick.  Where  is  your  cloak  ?" 
"I  have  forgotten." 

"  I  will  keep  you  warm ! " 
"Whither?" 

" There  is  an  island— " 

"Go  to  it. 

If  there  is  any  island  in  the  seas 
Worth  fleeing  to,  go,  find  it  and  be  safe. 
I  stay." 

"Don't  be  a  fool.    The  boat  is  there. 
What  do  you  stay  for  here  but  death?" 

She  smiled. 

"What  do  we  stay  for  anywhere  but  death? 
The  question  is  not  where  we  stay,  but  how, 
Master  or  slave."  Her  voice  was  very  calm 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

And  very  stern.     She  seemed  remote  from  him  — 
A  mountain  holding  converse  with  the  sea, 
Scarcely  a  woman  waiting  in  her  guilt 
For  an  awakened  husband  to  appear 
And  end  the  comedy.     She  seemed  to  him 
Desirable  and  inaccessible 
As  never  through  the  years,  a  woman  grown 
To  strange,  uplifting  godhead  by  some  force 
Of  stark  will  and  indomitable  pride 
He  had  not  dreamed  was  there.     Deep  in  his  heart 
There  was  a  note  that  quivered  in  response 
To  grandeur  always,  when  the  lewd,  vain  eyes 
Forgot  their  lewdness  and  their  vanity 
An  instant  and  let  grandeur  through ;  it  shook 
His  body  as  a  song  will  shake  a  house. 
He  seized  the  limp  hand  hanging  at  her  side, 
And  crushed  it  to  his  lips  and,  holding  it, 
Moaned,  as  the  longing  quivered  suddenly 
Beneath  the  fear,  like  new  life  in  a  corpse, 
Lighting  a  thousand  fires  that  blew  toward  her. 
His  eyes  were  hot  and  hers  were  like  two  coals, 
But  not  for  him.    Their  heat  was  not  love's  heat. 
He  tried  to  draw  her  to  his  breast ;  in  vain. 
She  leaned  from  him  and  with  an  iron  arm 
68 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

Held  him  apart  from  her.  He  cried  her  name. 
She  laughed  as  steel  laughs  in  a  battle.  "  Go ! 
He  will  be  after  you,  ^gisthus.  Go !" 

He  flung  her  arm  aside  and  for  a  flash 

Held  her  against  his  heart.     "Not  without  you !" 

She  struggled  free.     "  I  stay,  I  tell  you ! " 

Again 

He  caught  her  in  his  arms.     She  did  not  struggle. 
She  did  not  have  to  struggle.     She  was  ice. 
He  felt  his  kisses  freeze  upon  her  lips, 
And  one  by  one  the  fires  within  go  out 
Before  the  frigid  wind  that  blew  from  her. 
He  let  her  sink  upon  her  couch,  and  strode 
Heavily  toward  the  window,  breathing  in 
The  fresh  and  open  fragrance  of  the  night 
As  one  emerging  from  a  tomb.     She  watched 
The  black  form  in  the  moonlight,  and  it  seemed 
Vaguely  to  her  strained  mind  that  he  was  part 
Of  some  long-ended  story,  living  on 
Malignly  as  the  background  of  bad  dreams. 

He  turned  to  her ;  with  quick,  impulsive  step 
He  strode  across  the  moon's  white  neutral  land 
From  his  gloom  to  her  gloom.     His  pale  face  flashed 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

An  instant  startlingly  'twixt  dark  and  dark. 

He  cried,  "I  love  you,  Clytaemnestra  !     Come ! 

We  have  no  time  to  lose.     Love  me  or  not, 

I  have  enough  love  in  this  being  of  mine 

Forever  to  suffice  us  both.     Ah,  come, 

Where  I  can  guard  you,  care  for  you,  build  towers, 

Houses  and  gardens  for  you,  make  your  days 

Beautiful  to  your  ears  and  to  your  eyes, 

Until  you  love  them,  linger  over  them, 

And  loving  them,  at  last,  love  him  whose  love 

Built  them  upon  the  waste  another  made." 

His  face  was  close  to  hers ;  she  felt  his  breath 
Hot  on  her  cheek.     Her  eyes  were  wide,  and  fires 
Were  burning  in  their  deeps ;  but  save  for  these 
Her  face  was  still  white  marble,  stern  and  smooth, 
A  sculptured  face  with  two  live  coals  for  eyes. 
She  spoke  as  one  a  thousand  miles  away. 
"You  have  the  undying  habit  of  sweet  words. 
They  do  not  move  me  very  much,  ^Egisthus. 
That  may  not  be  their  fault.     They  are  good  words 
And  pleasantly  pronounced,  and  underneath 
Runs  the  sweet  brook-song  of  a  poet's  blood. 
I  do  not  wish  to  hurt  you.     I  believe 
70 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

That  you  would  worship  me  at  least  a  week. 
Go.    Please." 

He  looked  at  her  with  grieved,  bleak  eyes 
From  which  all  ugliness,  all  vanity 
Had  by  one  stroke  been  swept.     It  seemed,  almost, 
A  miracle  had  given  him  new  eyes, 
Or  he  had  suddenly  burst  wide  the  flat, 
Unholy  gates,  at  last  revealing  there 
The  true  eyes  of  the  true  man.     At  her  feet 
He  sank  down,  not  at  all  with  the  old  grace, 
But  like  a  soldier  stricken,  and  his  words 
Flowed  as  blood  flows  from  wounds  beyond  the  will 
Of  him  or  anyone  to  staunch  or  stay. 
"I  love  you !    Look  at  me.     Say  what  you  want 
About  me,  hate  me,  scorn  me,  scoff  at  me, 
Despise  me,  call  me  all  the  bitter  names 
You  always  called  me  in  your  heart  of  hearts, 
Maker  of  phrases,  fool,  knave,  coward !    Oh, 
I  know  your  face,  I  know  each  line,  each  cloud 
That  passes  over  that  smooth  brow  of  yours, 
Each  shadow,  like  a  wind  upon  a  wave, 
Crossing  your  cheeks,  each  wonderful,  faint  smile, 
The  carriage  of  your  head,  your  lifted  chin, 
The  falling  and  the  rising  of  your  lids ; 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

I  know  them  all,  I  know  the  things  they  say, 

I  know  the  bitterness,  the  love,  the  hate, 

The  pity  that  they  utter ;  day  and  night 

I  have  knelt  here  and  watched  them,  while  you  sat 

And  let  me  talk  to  you,  staring  to  sea, 

Dreaming  —  of  Agamemnon.     Oh,  I  know ! 

I  know  a  thousand  things.     I  know  myself. 

You  told  me  in  the  icy  intervals 

Between  your  kisses  what  you  thought  of  me. 

And  still  I  loved  you.     See,  I  love  you  now. 

Even  while  I  hear  the  very  blood  in  you 

Whispering, 'Agamemnon';  even  now, 

Even  while  I  see  the  scorn  you  have  of  me 

Melt  in  Olympian  pity ;  worse,  ah,  worse 

Than  all  the  scorn  you  ever  uttered ;  now, 

Even  now  I  love  you  as  I  never  loved  you. 

I  am  not  brave  or  noble.     In  my  veins 

Is  no  desire  for  battle.     I  have  eyes, 

And  a  mad  longing  to  hold  beauty  once ; 

And  a  weak  will,  and  that  is  all  of  it. 

But  what  I  have  and  what  I  am  are  yours." 

She  heard  him,  and  it  seemed  to  her  the  voice 
Was  in  the  next  room,  to  some  other  ear 
72 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

Pouring  the  passion,  the  abasement  forth ; 

So  alien  and  irrelevant  to  all 

That  swept  like  swollen  rivers  through  her  being, 

This  crouching  figure  seemed.     He  raised  his  head. 

"Why,  since  you  hated  me,  did  you  pretend 

That  I  was  something  other  than  a  toy 

To  pass  the  years  with  ?     Why  did  you  pretend 

That  I  was  new  life  to  your  body,  light 

To  the  gray  twilight  where  your  spirit  hurried, 

Forsaken,  toward  the  night  ?     I  gave  you  all, 

But  you  who  gave  me  what  the  world  calls  all 

Gave  me  the  hollowest  of  love's  black  lies 

To  feed  my  heart  upon.     Why?" 

She  arose ; 

With  one  hand  raised  as  though  to  shield  her  eyes 
From  his  accusing  passion,  she  rose  up. 
He  clutched  her  garment.     "Tell  me.    Tell  me  this. 
Was  I  a  tool,  was  I  an  instrument, 
Only  an  instrument  of  your  despair, 
Wreaking  its  vengeance  for  the  wasted  years  ? 
Answer  me,  Clytaemnestra." 

Gravely  then 

She  gazed  into  his  haggard  face.     The  moon 
Shone  on  her  eyes.     He  read  her  answer  there, 
73 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

And  sank  back  with  a  strident,  bitter  laugh 
That  died  out  in  a  helpless  moan,  itself 
Dying  in  a  low,  whispered,  "Be  it  so. 
But  come!" 

She  turned.     "  Go.     He  will  be  here  soon. 
I  never  loved  you.     You  are  nothing  to  me. 
You  were  the  drug  to  make  my  sick  brain  cease 
Ravelling  and  unravelling  forever 
A  golden  yarn.     You  were  the  knife  I  chose 
To  cut  the  living  canker  from  my  heart. 
You  failed,  you  failed.     You  left  the  canker  there. 
You  were  not  even  a  good  tool,  ^Egisthus." 
Her  voice  was  hard  and  cold.     She  crossed  the  room, 
And  as  she  went  it  seemed  to  him  the  air 
Was  like  a  sea,  and  she  was  like  a  ship 
Leaving  a  wake  of  audible  disdain 
To  mark  her  passage.     At  the  window-ledge 
She  turned.     Against  the  moon  her  head  loomed 

huge 

In  its  portentous  blackness,  and  her  voice 
Was  as  a  statue's  would  be,  could  it  speak. 
"The  things  that  I  created  to  my  hand 
Shall  not  have  power  to  drag  me  down,  to  drive 
My  free,  uncaptained  soul  to  that  gray  hell 
74 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

Where  basely  the  acknowledged  guilty  walk, 

Condemned,  forgiven,  mocked,  distrusted,  scorned. 

Not  fear  or  love  or  you  or  Agamemnon 

Shall  have  the  power  to  crush  me  or  deride, 

Condemn  me  or  forgive.     I  will  not  bow ; 

I  will  not  be  raised  up ;  I  will  not  drink 

Mercy  from  any  lips.     My  days  are  mine. 

And  I  will  keep  the  government  of  them. 

Stay  if  you  will,  go  if  you  will.     I  stay. 

I  am  the  Queen.     I  am  not  moved.     I  move." 

A  slow  wave  broke  against  the  shadowy  shore, 
And  hissing  died.     It  seemed  to  them  the  last 
The  dark  sea-deeps  were  ever  to  fling  forth, 
So  long  the  silence  seemed  that  followed  it. 
They  waited  for  the  next  wave  as  for  day, 
Rigidly  staring.     Solemnly  it  broke. 
^Egisthus  cried,  "Take  me  for  what  I  am. 
You  are  my  captain  now  and  forever.     Use  me. 
I  stay!" 

With  wide  eyes,  Clytaemnestra  stared 
At  the  white,  moon-bathed  figure,  at  her  feet 
Crouching  with  upturned  face,  and  hands  to  her 
Outstretched.     She  felt  an  icy  tremor  run 
75 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

Along  her  veins  and  make  her  flesh  congeal. 

It  seemed  to  her,  her  body  was  all  ice ; 

And  every  breath  of  warm,  sweet  summer  air 

That  came  in  through  the  window  with  its  freight 

Of  odors  and  its  faraway,  faint  tang, 

Was  winter- wind,  malignant,  searching,  sharp. 

She  let  the  curtain  down. 

And  now  the  sea, 

The  blurred  stars  and  the  garden  and  the  wind, 
The  sea-song  and  the  endless  cricket-song, 
All  the  old,  patient  voices,  all  the  old, 
Unalienable  friends,  all  were  shut  out. 
The  room  was  deadly  dark.     ^Egisthus  heard 
Her  tentative,  faint  footsteps  passing  by, 
The  rustle  of  her  robe,  her  broken  breathing. 
The  room  seemed  full  of  green,  unearthly  glows, 
Dropping  from  somewhere  slowly  past  his  eyes. 
He  struggled  to  his  feet.     He  spoke  her  name. 
She  did  not  answer,  and  so  heavily 
The  darkness  of  this  too  familiar  room 
Sank  with  its  awful  silence  on  his  being, 
He  dared  not  speak  again. 

He  heard  her  step, 
Again  he  heard  her  garments'  murmuring. 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

He  stumbled  backwards ;  endless  distances, 

It  seemed  to  him,  he  stumbled  through  black  night, 

Upsetting  chairs  and  tables,  scattering 

Her  powder-boxes  and  her  golden  combs, 

Her  rings  and  bands  and  crowns  and  necklaces 

And  mirrors  and  bright  bowls.     The  cold,  smooth 

wall 
Stopped  him  at  last.     He  clutched  it,  faint  with 

fright. 

It  seemed  to  him  he  saw  doom  drawing  near 
Through  the  enormous  blackness,  doom  in  robes 
That  whispered  in  the  dark,  like  little  snakes, 
Terrible  things  if  one  could  understand. 
He  saw,  or  thought  he  saw,  two  eyes,  like  coals, 
And  then  the  face  an  instant,  fading  out 
In  a  succession  of  green  glows  that  fell 
Slowly  to  earth.     He  screamed.     For  suddenly 
Upon  his  arms,  now  piteously  outstretched, 
He  felt  the  cold  intrusion  of  a  sword. 
He  gasped,   he  moaned,   he   shrank    against    the 

marble 

To  let  the  cold  thing  fall ;  and  moaned  again 
At  hands  unpitying  that  held  it  there, 
And  lips  he  once  had  kissed  that  uttered  words 
77 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

That  were  themselves  swords  striking  in  the  dark 
Murderous  blows  at  his  bare,  shivering  soul. 

Shoulder  to  shoulder,  scarcely  breathing,  cold 

With  an  unearthly  coldness,  those  two,  merged 

In  one  will,  which  was  Clytaemnestra's,  one 

Enveloping  resolve  to  scale  the  heavens 

And  beat  the  gates  of  high  Olympus  in 

And  fall  immeasurably  and  be  lost, 

But  to  the  end  to  keep  the  mastery 

Of  her  own  fate  and  never  to  bow  down ; 

Those  two,  made  one,  waited  for  sounds  like  steps 

Along  the  corridor,  while  through  the  gloom 

The  minutes  crawled  like  felt  but  unseen  ghosts, 

A  long  procession  with  averted  eyes. 

And  now  the  wind  rose  and  began  to  shake 

The  window's  heavy  curtain  and  to  cry, 

And  louder  now  and  more  insistently 

The  waves  began  to  strike  against  the  shore. 

An  hour  they  waited  and  another  hour 

And  then  another  hour ;  and  now  the  wind 

Invaded  the  black  chamber,  seeking  them, 

And  cutting  them  with  knives  and  freezing  them, 

And  stirring  horribly  mute  things  to  speech. 

7s 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

A  dozen  times  they  heard  or  thought  they  heard 
Steps  in  the  corridor ;  a  dozen  times 
iEgisthus  felt  the  ice  upon  his  arm 
And  trembled,  hearing  Clytaemnestra's,  "Now!" 
And  then,  before  they  knew  that  he  was  near 
They  heard  the  hangings  rustle  down,  and  knew 
One  room  enclosed  the  three  of  them  at  last. 

They  heard  him  breathing  deeply,  in  and  out, 
And  then  they  heard  him  knock  against  a  chair, 
Fallen  on  its  side,  and  heard  him  set  it  up, 
And  heard  him  crush  a  golden  powder-box 
Beneath  his  foot  and  feel  around  for  it, 
Murmuring     something;     and     then     heard     him 

grope 

On  toward  her  bed  again,  beneath  his  steps 
Crunching  her  ivory  and  golden  bands, 
And  crying,  " Clytaemnestra,  are  you  there? 
Are  you  awake?    What  has  he  done  to  you?" 
They  heard  him  sink  beside  the  bed,  they  heard 
His  hands  grope  over  it  to  find  her  face, 
They  heard  him  struggle  to  his  feet,  they  heard 
His  choked  cry,  "Are  you  dead?" 

^gisthus  twitched, 
79 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

But  Clytsemnestra  held  his  arm.     "Not  yet," 
She  whispered. 

Sudden  silence  fell.     No  sound 
Stirred  the  black  death  that  filled  the  room.    The 

wind, 

Even  the  wind  seemed  to  be  listening, 
Afraid  to  breathe.     Then  Agamemnon  spoke. 
"  Where  are  you  ?    You  are  somewhere  in  the  room. 
I  heard  you  stirring  somewhere.     Speak." 

Again 

^Egisthus  quivered,  but  again  the  hand 
Held  him  with  icy  clutch,  and  at  his  ear 
Again  the  dark  moaned,  "No,  not  yet." 

They  heard 

A  table  thrust  impulsively  aside. 
A    Tyrian    vase    crashed    down.     "Oh,    woman, 

woman ! 

Where  are  you  hiding  from  me  ?    Oh,  come  forth ! 
I  have  not  come  to  hurt  you.     Speak  to  me. 
You  are  not  far.     I  think  I  hear  your  heart, 
You  are  so  near.     But  it  is  dark.     I  broke 
A  vase  of  yours.     I  break  so  many  things. 
Forgive.     You  shall  have  other  vases.     Ah  ! 
I  heard  the  rustling  of  your  garment  then. 
80 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

Where  are  you  hiding,  Cly taemnestra  ?    Speak. 
I  have  not  come  to  blame  you.     I  who  love  you, 
And  did  you  grievous  wrong,  how  should  I  blame 

you? 

Life  is  a  great  maze,  Clytaemnestra.     You 
And  I  were  lost  in  it  awhile.     But  look, 
Love  is  the  thread  of  it,  love  is  the  key. 
We  shall  not  walk  in  mazes  any  more. 
Speak  to  me !    Come  to  me ! " 

"  Agamemnon!" 
She  staggered  toward  him  with  wide  arms. 

A  hand 

Thrust  her  aside,  a  thin  and  icy  hand 
Thrust  her  among  her  tables  and  her  chairs, 
Her  combs  and  broken  vases,  thrust  her  back, 
And  gave  the  breast  of  Agamemnon  not 
A  woman,  but  a  sword. 

He  cried,  he  reeled, 

He  fell,  thrashing,  he  rose,  he  fell.    The  sword 
Shook  itself  loose  and  on  the  marble  floor 
Fell  clattering.     He  fought  for  breath,  he  choked, 
Trying  to  speak,  and  then  reproachfully 
He  moaned  her  name,  and  then,  "Why?"    And 

again, 

G  81 


THE   GREAT  MAZE 

More  faintly,  "Why?  Why?"    On  his  breath,  the 

word 

Hung,  tremulously  fading.     When  it  died, 
He  went  with  it  into  the  windy  night. 

From  somewhere  in  the  world  there  came  a  cry, 
Then  steps  and  other  cries,  Electra's  voice 
And  other  voices  out  of  every  day, 
Steps  hurrying ! 

Across  the  littered  floor 

Blindly,  toward  where  he  lay  and  made  no  sound 
In  the  chill  blackness,  Clytaemnestra  drew 
Her  bruised  and  fainting  body,  reaching  out 
Quivering  fingers,  seeking  him,  and  crying, 
"Where  are  you,  oh,  where  are  you?"  in  low  tones, 
Inhuman  as  the  wind.     She  lost  her  way, 
And  fell  amid  the  shards  of  Tyrian  glass 
His  hand  had  scattered  there,  and  raised  herself 
And  struggled  on  with  bleeding  body  and  face, 
Groping  through  the  enormous  emptiness 
To  find  a  fallen  king.     She  found  a  sword ; 
And  then  she  found  his  hand  across  the  sword, 
His  open  eyes,  his  bleeding  breast,  his  feet. 
She  moaned,  and  kissed  his  feet  and  kissed  his  feet. 
82 


THE  GREAT  MAZE 

^Egisthus  staggered  wildly  to  the  window 

And  tore  the  curtain  down.     The  moonlight  fell 

Whitely  on  Clytaemnestra  where  she  knelt. 

He  stared,  gasping,  " Why ?  —  Why?  —  Why?  — " 

A  child  groped  blindly  through  the  hangings. 


THE    HEART   OF   YOUTH 


NOTE 

"  The  Heart  of  Youth  "  was  written  for  the  dedication  of  an 
outdoor  theatre  at  the  Hill  School,  in  Pottstown,  Pennsylvania, 
and  performed  for  the  first  time  on  the  evening  of  June  6,  1915. 
It  was  subsequently  published  in  the  Outlook,  to  whose  editors 
acknowledgment  is  due  for  permission  to  publish  the  play  here. 

"  The  Heart  of  Youth  "  is  fully  protected  by  copyright.  All 
acting  rights,  both  professional  and  amateur,  are  forbidden  with 
out  special  permission  and  the  payment  of  royalty.  Application 
for  the  right  of  performing  the  play  or  reading  it  in  public  miist 
be  made  to  the  author,  care  of  the  Macmillan  Co.  Any  piracy 
or  infringement  will  be  rigidly  prosecuted  in  accordance  with  the 
penalties  provided  by  the  United  States  Statutes. 


86 


CHARACTERS 

FRA  ANGELO. 
RABELIN,  his  companion. 
THE  DUKE. 
ARABIS,  his  daughter. 
ALTH/EA 


,    her  friends. 
MELISSA 

A  PHYSICIAN. 

A  PAGE. 

A  MAN  ON  CRUTCHES. 

A  MONK. 

A  BOY. 

HANDMAIDENS. 

PAGES. 

MEN,  WOMEN  AND  CHILDREN. 

THE  MASTER  IN  CHARGE 
OF  THE  PERFORMANCE. 


SEQUENCE  OF  SCENES 

SCENE      I.  A  forest. 

SCENE     II.  A  public  square. 

SCENE  III.  A  dark  street. 

SCENE    IV.  A  room  in  the  palace. 


THE 
HEART  OF  YOUTH 

PROLOGUE 

(The  MASTER  IN  CHARGE,  without  hat,  coat  or 
waistcoat  and  with  the  sleeves  of  his  shirt  rolled 
up,  appears  at  back  of  stage.  He  is  evidently 
very  hot  and  somewhat  exhausted  and  out  of 
temper.  Even  before  he  appears  he  may  be  heard 
calling  impatiently  to  two  boys  who  are  quarrelling 
unseen,  but  distinctly  audible,  in  the  gulley  be 
hind  the  stage.) 

THE    MASTER    IN   CHARGE 

Come,  come  now!    Stop  your  jabber.     Stop,  stop, 

STOP! 

D'ye  think  those  pretty  girls  and  their  mammas 
Have  come  to  listen  to  you,  jabbering 
Behind  the  wings?    Louis,  if  you  don't  quit 
Rough-housing  Bill  this  very  minute,  I'll  — 
What  difference  if  Bill  did  steal  your  towel  ? 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

Steal  George's,  Gerald's,  anybody's.     Oh ! 

If  you  were  only  now  professionals 

I'd  have  the  fun  at  least  of  firing  you ! 

But  amateurs !     Never  again,  I  swear  ! 

If  there  is  anything  inside  this  shirt 

Able  to  profit  by  experience, 

I  wash  my  hands  of  amateurs  henceforth. 

Come,  play  the  game.     Do,  for  the  love  of  Mike. 

Pretend  it's  football  —  anything  but  Art, 

And  take  a  brace,  so  we  can  start  the  show. 

Come,  now,  and  stop  your  nonsense.     Up  this  way. 
(To  the  audience,  as  he  comes  forward  mopping  his 
brow.) 

They're  amateurs.     And,  worse  than  that,  they're 
boys. 

God  knows  if  there'll  be  any  play  to  watch. 

(A  number  of  BOYS  appear  at  the  back  and  hesi 
tatingly  come  forward,  one  by  one,  as  the  MASTER 
IN  CHARGE  introduces  them) 

Well,  here  they  come,  prepared  to  make  their  bow. 

Bow,  William.    This  is  William.    He's  to  play 

The    saint,   the  wandering    good   man.       This  is 

George. 
(In  a  whisper.) 

90 


PROLOGUE 

Stand  up,  for  heaven's  sake,  and  be  a  man. 

He  plays  the  hero-villain,  Rabelin. 

You've  heard  it  said,  Art  is  economy. 

Well,  we've  economized.     Like  life  itself 

We've  thrown  our  good  and  evil  in  one  pot 

And  saved  one  acting  role,  creating  thus 

A  Rabelin  too  virtuous  to  hang, 

Too  wicked  to  exalt  in  other  ways, 

Who  knows  ?  —  perhaps  a  man  like  me  —  or  George. 

Watch  him !    His  fault  is  that  he  tries  to  heal 

Ere  he  himself  is  healed.     You  know  the  kind. 

Perhaps  you've  met  him  —  in  the  looking-glass. 

Run  along,  George.     Come,  Wolcott.     This  young 

man 

Is  our  Physician.     He  looks  wise,  and  talks. 
Herbert's  our  Cripple,  Sheldon  is  our  Page, 
Whose  vice  is  that  he  sleeps  when  he  should  watch, 
A  thing  some  folk  are  prone  to.     Here's  Cornelius  — 
Althaea  in  the  play.     Melissa  here 
Goes  down  to  glory  with  the  name  of  Horace. 
Bow,  Louis.   He's  our  Duke,  straight  from  Illyria  — 
Stern  parent  of  a  sixteen-year-old  girl, 
Spite  of  his  obviously  tender  years. 
And  here  is  Gerald,  the  fair  maid  herself, 

91 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

As  muscular  a  Princess,  take  my  word, 

As  ever  bloomed  in  gardens.     Ah,  but  wait ! 

We'll  have  her  dying  soon,  and  pale  as  death ; 

And  Rabelin  with  horror  in  his  eyes, 

Crying,  "Relent !     Oh,  punish  me  no  more  — " 

But  that's  our  story. 

( The  BOYS  have  one  by  one  edged  over  to  the  right 
and  disappeared.} 

Well,  you've  seen  our  players, 
And  laughed  at  them  a  bit ;  and  that  was  right. 
For  they  were  only  boys  in  paint  and  wig, 
Meant  to  be  laughed  at,  boys  like  other  boys, 
Your  boys  and  mine.     But  once  the  play  begins 
Forego  the  laughter.     They  are  ours  no  more. 
The  little  while  you  sit  upon  this  slope 
And  watch  our  story  like  deep  waters  flow 
Before  your  eyes,  now  calm,  now  full  of  storm, 
They  are  not  of  this  world.     A  little  while 
They  put  their  souls  to  sleep,  and  lend  to  ghosts 
From  other  worlds  the  bodies  that  are  theirs. 
They  do  not  act,  they  are  the  Saint,  the  Duke, 
The  hero-villain,  the  fair,  fragile  maid, 
Real  for  the  moment  of  our  pageantry 
As  love  and  faith  and  God's  hand  in  the  dark  — 
92 


PROLOGUE 

Spirits  made  flesh,  not  boys,  but  visions  !    Ah ! 
Not  boys,  but  dreams ;   not  words,  but  Truth ;   not 

man, 

But  something  mightier,  commanding  man, 
Alone  can  fitly  dedicate  this  stage, 
This  church  —  where  not  in  unctuous  brocade 
Prinked  and  emblazoned  for  the  sight  of  heaven, 
But  nakedly  in  combat,  stripped  of  sham, 
Man  talks  with  God.     Let  spirits  dedicate 
What  is  the  spirit's !    In  the  name  of  Truth ! 

(With  an  emphatic  gesture.) 
Now  let  the  curtain  rise ! 

(He  turns  as  though  to  leave  the  stage,  hesitates  and 

turns  again  to  the  audience.) 
You  smile.     The  curtain?    Let  the  curtain  rise? 
Who  speaks  of  curtains  in  this  open  dell 
Of  cool,  green  turf  and  unperturbed  waters? 
What  curtain  is  there  here  to  rise  or  fall  ? 
Ah,  there  are  hundreds  !     On  your  eyes  they  lie  — 
The  curtains  which  the  busy  weaving  men, 
We  call  the  years,  have  woven  of  your  thoughts. 
You  said  that  thoughts  were  nothing.     What  a  web 
Have  now  the  weavers  made  of  that  thin  silk 
The  spider-brain  spun  of  the  love  of  things 

93 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

The  eye  could  see,  the  ear  could  hear,  the  hand 
Could  finger,  squeeze  and  claw.     Ah,  what  a  web 
Of  gray,  inconsequential-seeming  threads ! 
The      modish      thoughts,      the      meat-and-money 

thoughts  — 

In  webs,  in  webs,  in  iron  curtains,  proof 
Against  whatever  fires  of  poesy 
Burn  in  white  aspirations  from  our  lines, 
They  hang  between  us  and  your  inner  eyes, 
Those  better  eyes,  the  pure  eyes  of  the  soul. 

Lift  up  the  curtain !     For  an  hour  lift  up 
The  veil  that  holds  you  prisoners  in  this  world 
Of  coins  and  wires  and  motor-horns,  this  world 
Of  figures  and  of  men  who  trust  in  facts, 
This  pitiable,  hypocritic  world 
Where  men  with  blinkered  eyes  and  hobbled  feet 
Grope  down  a  narrow  gorge  and  call  it  life. 
Lift  up  the  curtain !     Gaze  upon  our  world. 
Look !     Are  there  cedars  here,  a  fence  beyond, 
A  pond,  a  football  field,  an  ugly  mass 
Of  huddled  roofs  behind  that  poplar-row  ? 
Lift  up  the  curtain !    We  are  in  a  wood 
Above  a  city  in  Illyria. 

94 


PROLOGUE 

The  time  is  twilight.     From  the  hills,  the  Saint 

Comes  with  his  young  disciple ;  in  the  town 

The  people  wait.     Hush  !     You  can  hear  the  bell 

Calling  their  hope  across  the  golden  eve. 

The  dusk  is  full  of  peace.     You  would  not  dream 

That  in  the  town  a  Princess  perishes 

For  love  of  God,  and  on  these  hills,  a  boy 

Struts  gaily  toward  disaster.   ^Look,  what  heights? 

What  deeps,  break  on  your  eyes,  what  heavens,  what 

hells 

In  the  small  orbit  of  the  heart  of  youth? 
Lift  up  the  curtain !    Let  the  play  begin. 


95 


SCENE  I 

A  FOREST 

(From  the  right  enter  FRA  ANGELO,  a  tall  friar  in  a 
white  cowl.  He  is  accompanied  by  RABELIN,  a 
boy  of  seventeen  in  medieval  garb.) 

FRA   ANGELO 

Look,  Rabelin.     Our  journey  nears  its  end. 

There  lies  the  city,  slumbering  in  the  dusk. 

So  beautiful  it  is,  so  calm,  so  mute, 

So  open  to  God's  gaze,  you  would  not  guess 

How  the  bees  hum  and  labor  in  the  hive 

And  love  and  kill  and  die.     So  many  roofs, 

And  under  each  the  struggle  and  the  pain ; 

Youth  reaching  out,  and  old  age  falling  back ; 

Youth,  hoping ;  age,  remembering ;  each  at  strife 

With  earth   and  heaven,  scarce   knowing   why  he 

strives. 

So  many  roofs,  so  many  tragedies 
96 


SCENE  I 

Of  unfulfilled  existences. 

The  sun 

Plays  with  gay  magic  on  the  fretted  dome. 
Look,  with  what  reckless  generosity 
He  strews  his  gems.     That  flash  was  from  a  pan 
In  some  poor  drudge's  hand ;  that  running  light 
Broke  from  a  sudden  ripple  on  the  stream, 
Raised  by  the  first  puff  of  the  evening  breeze. 
How  soft  the  night  falls  on  those  far,  dark  hills. 
Like  an  inaudible,  blue  wave  it  breaks 
Along  the  horizon's  edge.     The  valley  mists 
Rise  up  like  foam J    Wait.     Soon  upon  the  deep 
The  white  sails  shall  appear,  the  silver  sails 
That  carry  cargoes  through  sidereal  seas 
For  the  immortal  venturers  of  heaven. 
I  shall  be  glad  to  see  the  stars  again. 

RABELIN 

You  are  a  strange  man  when  the  stars  come  out. 
I  know  you  while  the  sun  shines.     Now  and  then 
I  almost  dare  to  laugh  at  you  as  though 
You  were  a  human  being  like  myself. 
But  when  the  stars  come  out,  you  make  me  think 
Of  mountains  and  enormous  ghosts  that  tower 
97 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

To  heaven  and  make  me  shiver  and  feel  small. 
I  don't  much  like  to  think  of  things  like  that. 

FRA   ANGELO 

Are  you  afraid  of  me  ? 

RABELIN 

Not  now.     You  have 
A  dear  and  human  way  with  you  by  day, 
A  way  of  being  near.     I  never  thought 
A  good  man  could  be  such  a  friend.     I'm  sure 
You're  pleasanter  than  ordinary  saints. 
And  yet,  at  twilight,  when  the  stars  come  out, 
You  frighten  me.     You  seem  so  far  away. 

FRA   ANGELO 

The  stars  are  friends  of  mine. 

RABELIN 

Yes,  that's  the  joke. 

You're  human,  but  you  have  such  queer  ideas. 
If  you  were  only  now  like  other  men, 
Why,  with  your  reputation  as  a  saint, 
Your  holiness,  and  that  odd  gift  of  yours 
Of  making  sick  men  well  and  bad  men  good  — 
Heaven  knows  what  eminence  you  might  attain. 


SCENE  I 

You  ought  to  be  the  Pope,  you  might  be  King , 
If  you  would  do  as  much  as  lift  your  hand, 
You  could  be  richer  than  a  duke,  with  gold 
And  jewelry  and  robes  of  scarlet  silk . 


FRA   ANGELO 


Go 


Id  must  have  guardians,  jewels  must  have  locks, 
Clothes  must  have  roofs  to  shield  them  from  the 

weather. 

Such  things  are  nothing  if  they  are  not  all. 
It  is  a  matter  of  the  eyes ;  and  mine     /Ky  ^ 
See  heaven's  gold  and  have  no  taste  for  earth's. 

RABELIN 

You  are  a  holy  man  and  I  am  not. 

There  lies  the  trouble.     You  don't  care  a  rap 

For  gems  and  gold  and  scarlet  things  to  wear. 

I  do,  like  every  gentleman  of  taste. 

I  think  I  must  have  noble  blood  somewhere, 

For  I  have  feelings  for  life's  higher  things 

That  as  a  rule  only  a  noble  has, 

Fine  linen  and  such  things.     You  wear  a  cowl 

And  under  that  a  rope  and  that  is  all. 

99 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

You  think  that's  saintly.     Well,  I  think  it's  just 
A  little  narrow,  I  might  almost  say 
A  little  cowardly,  as  though  you  feared 
That  your  religion  might  not  stand  the  strain 
Of  silk  on  Sundays. 

FRA   ANGELO 

Something  might  be  said 
About  the  cowardice  that  hides  in  cowls. 
But  I  prefer  a  cowl. 

RABELIN 

That's  your  affair. 

I'll  not  dispute  you  have  a  free  man's  right 
To  your  own  kind  of  clothes.     But  I  assert 
You  have  no  right  to  keep  from  me  the  means 
To  clothe  myself  in  silks  if  I  so  wish. 

FRA  ANGELO 

What  have  I  done  ? 

RABELIN 

What  have  you  done  ?    Last  night 
You  healed  a  rich  man's  son,  you  raised  him  up 
When  he  was  gone  almost,  and  when  they  brought 
100 


SCENE  I 

Gold  to  repay  you,  you  rejected  it ! 
That  was  your  business,  that  was  your  affair 
If  you  refused  the  wherewithal  to  give 
Drink  to  the  orphan,  to  the  widow  meat. 
Oh,  I'll  admit  that  was  your  own  affair, 
Though  I've  my  notions  of  its  saintliness !  — 
But  when  they  turned  and  offered  me  their  gold, 
Saying,  "Your  friend  is  young,  he  wears  no  on\l, 
Some  day  perhaps  he  may  have  need  of  gold," 
And  you  refused  to  let  me  take  their  gift, 
That,  I  declare,  was  holiness  gone  mad. 

FRA   ANGELO 

A  week  ago  your  thoughts  were  all  of  heaven. 
Why  are  they  turned  so  suddenly  to  earth  ? 

RABELIN 

Oh,  I  am  sick  of  this  religious  buncome. 

<F^~ 

I  think  and  think  and  don't  get  anywhere. 
Things  you  can  see,  things  you  can  touch  and  smell , 
Those  are  the  things  I  seem  to  want  —  real  things, 
Substantial  things  that  you  can  weigh.     God  knows 
If  there  is  any  God.     I'm  sure  I  don't. 
But  there  is  money  and  there's  power  and  place  — 
101 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 
FRA  ANGELO 

If  you  wish  money  there  are  many  ways 

That  money  may  be  sought.     Why  do  you,  then, 

Follow  a  wandering  madman  through  the  hills  ? 

RABELIN 

Heaven  knows. 

FRA   ANGELO 

I  never  urged  you,  Rabelin. 
You  came  to  me.  I  did  not  ask  you  whence, 
Nor  why  you  came. 

RABELIN 

I  came  from  dice  and  taverns. 

FRA   ANGELO 

So  wicked  and  so  young ! 

RABELIN 

Oh,  laugh !    You  think 
I'm  just  a  boy.     You  never  would  believe 
How  bad  I  was. 

FRA   ANGELO 

(Warmly.) 

No. 

102 


SCENE  I 

RABELIN 

Well,  then,  don't  blame  me 
When  you  discover  what  a  devil  I  am. 
Sometimes  I  fear  I'll  be  an  atheist. 

FRA   ANGELO 

But  you  were  such  a  fire  of  faith. 

RABELIN 

I  know. 

I  swallowed  everything,  hook,  bait  and  sinker. 
Now  half  of  it  seems  childish,  and  the  rest 
Old  women's  talk,  not  meant  for  grown-up  men. 

FRA   ANGELO 

Perhaps  when  you  have  lived  — 

RABELIN 

But  I  have  lived. 

You  don't  quite  realize  what  I've  been  through. 
I've  passed  through  terrible  temptations.     I'm 
Not  like  those  other  boys  who  don't  know  life. 
I'm  different.     I've  seen  things.     Oh,  I  have. 
I  wouldn't  for  the  world  upset  your  faith  — 
103 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 
FRA  ANGELO 

I  understand. 

RABELIN 

But  my  experience 

Has  taught  me  that  there  isn't  much  worth  while 
Except   success.     When   you've   got   that,   you've 

got  it. 

It  isn't  like  this  moonshine  talk  of  God 
You  can't  clutch  anywhere  but  like  an  eel 
It  slips  between  your  fingers.     By  and  by, 
When  I  begin  to  heal  — 

ERA  ANGELO 

To  heal? 

RABELIN 

Why  not? 

FRA   ANGELO 

I  must  be  getting  old,  and  my  mind  weak. 
I  can't  quite  seem  to  follow  your  swift  flights. 
Did  you  say  —  heal  ? 

RABELIN 

Why,  yes. 
104 


SCENE  I 
FRA   ANGELO 

But  you're  a  sceptic ! 

RABELIN 

Of  course.     But  then  the  sick  folk  won't  know  that. 
I've  watched  you  heal.     It  doesn't  seem  so  hard. 
Some  day  I'll  learn  the  trick,  and  when  I  do, 
You  bet,  I'll  not  refuse  a  rich  man's  gift. 

FRA   ANGELO 

So?    So?    A  trick? 

RABELIN 

Well,  something  like  a  trick. 

FRA   ANGELO 

Is  that  the  reason  why  you  cleave  and  cling, 

To  learn  my  trick  ?     A  trick,  a  juggler's  trick !  — 

And  turn  it  into  goblets  and  fine  linen  ? 

RABELIN 

I've  made  you  angry. 

FRA  ANGELO 

Yes,  you  strike  at  God 
When  you  strike  at  His  work. 

I05 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

RABELIN 

It's  your  work. 

FRA   ANGELO 

No. 

RABELIN 

Well,  I  suppose  you're  through  with  me  for  good. 
I'm  sorry  and  —  I  swear  —  I  meant  no  harm. 
I've  followed  you  because  I  cannot  help 
But  follow.     There  is  something  in  your  eyes. 
I  love  you,  and  I  follow.     That  is  all. 

FRA  ANGELO 

Give  me  your  hand.     I  love  you,  Rabelin. 

RABELIN 

You  were  young  once.     You  know  the  fires  that 

burn 

Inside  a  fellow.     Oh,  I  can't  explain. 
I  hate  myself,  and  everything,  but  you, 
And  somehow,  you're  the  one  of  all  the  world 
I'm  meanest  to.     I  don't  know  what  I  want. 
I  think  I  want  to  do  something,  to  fight, 
Or  go  to  sea,  or  be  a  missionary, 
106 


SCENE  I 

Or  go  about  the  country,  healing  folk 
Like  you.     Sometimes  I  want  to  die. 

FRA   ANGELO 

Not  yet,  my  brother.     God  has  quite  enough 
Boys  of  your  age  to  manage  up  in  heaven, 
And  earth  may  find  some  labor  for  you  yet. 

RABELIN 

You're  making  fun  of  me  again  ! 

FRA   ANGELO 

Of  course. 

My  love  were  less  the  deep  love  that  it  is 
If  it  were  love  unmixed  with  laughter. 

RABELIN 

(Almost  tearful.) 

Well, 

I  won't  be  laughed  at,  teased  and  patronized. 
It  may  be  sinful,  but  I'm  not  a  saint, 
And  don't  pretend  to  be,  and  I'm  not  meek, 
Nor  humble.    Not  a  bit  of  it.     I'm  proud. 
Some  day  or  other  we  are  bound  to  break. 


It  might  as  well  be  now. 


«, 


07 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 
FRA  ANGELO 

Why,  yes.     Why,  yes. 
Freely  you  came  and  you  shall  freely  go. 
Give  me  your  hand. 

(RABELIN,  with  his  back  turned  toward  him,  makes 
no  move  to  accept  the  pr offered  hand.) 

You  won't?    Why,  then,  good  by. 
I'm  very  sure  that  we  shall  meet  again. 
(He  goes  out,  centre  back.) 

RABELIN 

X 

(Tossing  his  head  defiantly.) 
Oh,  for  a  chance  to  show  what  I  can  do ! 
Anything !     Just  to  show  him.     Anything ! 
If  only  some  one'd  fall  into  a  river 
While  I  was  near,  or  there  would  come  a  war, 
I'd  make  him  swallow  humble  pie,  I  would ! 

(He  goes  out,  whistling  desperately.) 


108 


SCENE  II 
A  PUBLIC  SQUARE  IN  THE  TOWN 

(A  choir  is  heard  chanting  ojf  stage.     Enter  the 
PAGE,  left.) 

PAGE 

(Yawning  and  stretching.) 

"  Watch  and  be  ready,"  said  His  Nibs  the  Duke. 
"Run,  Theobald,  and  fetch  the  holy  man. 
He    may   come    soon.       He    may   not    come    till 

night. 

Watch  and  be  ready."    That's  all  very  well. 
I've  watched  for  seven  blank  and  weary  hours. 
I  don't  believe  there  is  a  holy  man. 
And  even  if  there  is,  it's  ten  to  one 
He'll  somehow  circumnavigate  this  burg. 
All  the  excitements  do.     I'm  going  to  sleep. 
Cathedral  steps  don't  make  the  softest  bed. 
But  it's  a  hard  stone  that'll  keep  my  brain 
Working  against  my  will.     That  holy  man ! 
Pshaw !  probably  he'll  never  come  at  all, 
Or  if  he  does  —  well,  I'll  wake  up  in  time. 
Good  night,  proud  world. 

109 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

(He  settles  himself  comfortably  and  drops  to  sleep. 
Again  the  choir  may  be  faintly  heard.  From  the 
left,  enters  a  MAN  ON  CRUTCHES.) 

THE  MAN   ON   CRUTCHES 

I  wonder  —  will  he  come  ? 

(From  the  right,  a  VOICE  is  heard  calling) 

VOICE 
Coming ! 

THE  MAN   ON   CRUTCHES 

Oh,  where?    Which  way? 

VOICE 

Corning ! 

THE  MAN   ON   CRUTCHES 

Dear  God! 
(A  BOY  runs  in  from  the  right.) 

BOY 

He's  here !    He's  in  the  town ! 

THE  MAN   ON   CRUTCHES 

He's  here? 
BOY 

I  saw 
Him  close  as  I  see  you.    I  saw  him  heal ! 

no 


SCENE  II 
THE   MAN   ON   CRUTCHES 

Heal! 

BOY 

Yes.    A  woman.     She  was  blind.    He  said  — 
(The  great  BELL  of  the  cathedral  close  by  begins  to 
ring  with  eager,  rejoicing  strokes.) 

THE   MAN   ON   CRUTCHES 

He's  here ! 

(The  PAGE  moves  restlessly,  but  settles  down  again 
into  still  sounder  slumber.  From  the  left  and 
rear,  MEN,  WOMEN  and  CHILDREN,  among  them 
the  halt,  the  lame  and  the  blind,  run  in,  crying 
excitedly  to  each  other.) 

VOICES 

The  bell !    He's  here !    He's  in  the  town ! 
This  way  !     Come,  this  way ! 
You're  crowding  me ! 
What  do  I  care? 
He's  coming  this  way. 
I  can't  breathe ! 
Heal  me ! 

He's  coming !    He's  coming  !    He's  coming ! 
in 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 
THE  MAN  ON  CRUTCHES 

Oh,  wonderful ! 

(VOICES,  gaining  in  volume,  are  heard  at  right, 
then  a  throng  presses  in,  shouting.) , 

NEW  VOICES 
He's  here! 

THE   OTHERS 

He's  here !     He's  here ! 

(FRA  ANGELO  enters.  The  crowd  surges  about  him 
with  shouts.  The  Cathedral  CHOIR  is  heard 
again  more  loudly  and  dominantly  than  before.) 

VOICES 
Heal  me !    Holy  man,  heal  me ! 

(RABELIN  enters  right  and  stands  apart  from  the 
crowd,  a  little  supercilious  and  bored.) 

FRA    ANGELO 

(Gently) 
Peace,  peace,  good  friends. 

(The    crowd    parts    and    FRA    ANGELO    emerges. 
THE  MAN  ON  CRUTCHES,  who  has  kept  in  the 
background,  hobbles  up  to  him.) 
112 


SCENE  II 
THE   MAN   ON   CRUTCHES 

(Stretching  out  his  hand.) 
Heal  me ! 

FRA   ANGELO 

(Gazing  tenderly  into  his  eyes.} 
You  are  healed. 

THE   MAN   ON   CRUTCHES 

(Stares  incredulously,  stretches  his  limbs  wonder- 
ingly  and  suddenly  lets  his  crutches  fall  with  a 
cry.) 
Healed ! 

(The  cry  is  taken  up  by  the  others  who  surge  about 
FRA  ANGELO.) 

FRA  ANGELO 

Come.      Let  us  rest   our    hearts  in   God's   good 
house, 

And  speak  with  one  another. 

(He  goes  out  left,  followed  by  the  hushed  and  awe 
struck  crowd.  RABELIN,  startled  out  of  his 
defiant  mood  by  the  healing  of  the  cripple,  stands 
motionless  an  instant,  pondering.) 

"3 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

RABELIN 

"You— are  — healed." 


Um.    That  seemed  easy. 
(At  left,  waking.) 


PAGE 

Is  it  morning  yet  ? 


RABELIN 

Hello.     What's  here? 

PAGE 

Don't  talk  to  me  like  that. 

RABELIN 

Say,  who  are  you? 

PAGE 

I  am  the  Duke's  own  page. 
Remember  that. 

RABELIN 

Pooh !    What's  a  duke?    I've  been 
A  saint's  companion,  and  I  could  be  now, 
If  I'd  been  willing  to  endure  his  ways. 
But  he  was  —  fresh,  as  teachers  sometimes  are, 
And,  well,  I  felt  I  was  too  old  to  stand 
That  sort  of  thing  even  from  a  holy  man. 
114 


SCENE  II 
PAGE 

A  holy  man? 

RABELIN 

(0/hand.) 

Why,  yes.     They  call  him  that. 
Of  course,  when  you  go  travelling  with  a  man 
You  do  see  faults.     But  then,  he's  good,  he's  good. 

PAGE 

LJ5ay,  it's  a  holy  man  I'm  out  to  find. 
When  is  he  coming  ? 

RABELIN 

Why,  he's  come  and  gone. 

PAGE 

(Jumping  to  his  feet.) 
Gone! 

RABELIN 

You're  a  foolish  virgin. 

PAGE 

Where'dhego? 

RABELIN 

Oh,  you  can't  see  him  now.    He's  healing  folk. 
There's  thousands  clamoring  to  see  him  now. 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

You'll  have  to  wait  in  line.     If  things  go  right 
He  may  be  free  to-morrow  at  this  time. 

PAGE 

Oh,  help  a  fellow,  won't  you?    I'll  be  fired 
If  I  come  back  without  him.    I  sure  will. 
I've  got  to  see  the  holy  man. 

RABELIN 

What  for? 

PAGE 

Well,  some  one  wants  him. 

RABELIN 

Who? 

PAGE 

(Ofhand.) 

Oh,  just  the  Duke. 

RABELIN 

(Impressed.) 
The  Duke? 

PAGE 

For  his  sick  daughter. 

RABELIN 

(Fascinated.) 

What's  her  name  ? 

116 


SCENE   II 

PAGE 
The  Princess  Arabis. 

RABELIN 

My,  what  a  name ! 
The  Princess  Arabis  — 

PAGE 
She's  very  sick. 

RABELIN 

She  is? 

PAGE 

And  awfully  pretty.    White  and  pink 
Like  a  magnolia  flower.    And  fun  to  talk  to. 

RABELIN 

What  did  you  say  her  name  was  ? 

PAGE 

Arabis. 

RABELIN 

That's  a  sweet-smelling  name. 

PAGE 

She's  very  ill. 

Oh,  please  persuade  the  holy  man  — 
117 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 
RABELIN 


Oh,  no, 

He's  far  too  busy,  and  besides  a  duke 
To  him  means  no  more  than  a  beggar.    But  — 
There  might  be  others  who  could  possibly  — 
What  is  the  ailment  ?    Measles  ? 


PAGE 

Worse  than  that. 


RABELtN 

Mumps  ? 

PAGE 

Oh,  far  worse. 

RABELIN 

Then  chicken  pox  ? 

PAGE 

No.    Worse. 

RABELIN 

(Dejected.) 

Then  I'm  afraid  the  saint  had  better  not 
Attempt  to  tackle  it. 

PAGE 

Oh,  he  must  come ! 
118 


SCENE  II 
RABELIN 

What  is  her  ailment  ? 

PAGE 

No  one  seems  to  know. 
She's  drooping,  fading,  slowly,  like  a  flower 
That's  thirsty. 

RABELIN 

(Softy-) 

Arabis ! 

PAGE 

I've  heard  them  say 
It's  all  because  she  wants  to  be  a  nun, 
And  the  old  Duke  won't  let  her.    That's  absurd ! 
Who'd  droop  and  pine  away  to  be  a  nun  ? 

RABELIN 

(Pondering.) 

Of  course,  a  thing  like  that  is  easier 
To  heal  than  real  diseases  —  mumps  or  such  things. 
It's  barely  possible  the  holy  man 
Might  be  persuaded,  at  a  pinch,  to  come ; 
Since  it's  not  mumps,  or  something  serious, 
But  just  — 

119 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

PAGE 
The  Duke  said  he'd  pay  well ! 

RABELIN 

He  did? 

PAGE 

Yes.    Heaps  and  heaps  of  gold. 

RABELIN 

Oh,  wonderful ! 

PAGE 

You  bring  the  holy  man  and  you'll  get  some. 

RABELTN 

(Carelessly.) 
Oh,  that's  all  right. 

PAGE 
I'll  skip. 

RABELIN 

(Dreamily.) 

Sweet  Arabis ! 
Why,  that's  a  flower's  name. 

PAGE 

You'll  make  him  come  ? 
120 


SCENE  II 

RABELJN 

(Breathlessly.) 
Yes. 

PAGE 

Good  for  you.     I'll  go  and  tell  the  Duke. 
(He  runs  out  right.) 

RABELIN 

A  Duke !    A  Princess !     Princess  Arabis ! 

A  pining  Princess !     Heaps  and  heaps  of  gold ! 

It's   like   a   fairy-story.     (Pause.)     "You  —  are  — 

healed." 

Why,  it  looks  easy.     Why  not  ?     Why,  perhaps  — 
I  might  —  I'm  rather  bright  in  other  ways  — 
Who  knows?     Perhaps  it's  Opportunity 
Banging  at  my  front  door.     It  is !     It  is ! 
It's  the  great  chance  to  show  what  I  can  do, 
To  show  the  holy  man  — ! 

(A  MONK  enters  right,  hurrying  across  the  stage. 

RABELIN  impetuously  stops  him.) 
Hold  on ! 

MONK 

What's  this? 

RABELIN 

Take  off  your  cowl ! 

121 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

MONK 
My  cowl? 

RABELIN 

Quick ! 

MONK 

Please,  sir,  but  — 

RABELIN 

I  want  it. 

MONK 

So  do  I. 

RABELIN 

Quick !    Take  it  off ! 

MONK 

I've  only  got  a  hair-shirt  underneath ! 

RABELIN 

I  don't  care.     Quick ! 

(He  strips  the  MONK  of  his  cowl  and  quickly  puts  it 
on  over  his  clothes.     The  MONK,  in  his  brown 
hair-shirt,  reaching  to  his  knees,  hurries  out,  right, 
calling,  "Help!  Robbers!") 
Now,  which  way  to  the  palace  of  the  Duke? 
(He  looks  right  and  left,  then  runs  out,  back.) 
122 


SCENE  III 
A  DARK  STREET 
(Enter  RABELIN,  stealthily,  rear  centre.) 

RABELIN 

That's  it.    That  must  be  it.    Where  is  the  gate  ? 
How  black  and  tall  and  hard  and  cold  and  stern 
The  walls    rise    up.      There's    not    a    tree,   just 

stones. 

Beneath,  above,  about  —  a  world  of  stone. 
It  makes  me  shiver.     I'm  not  used  to  towns. 
I  wonder  what  the  holy  man  would  say 
If  he  could  see  me  now?    It's  getting  dark. 
How  funny  shadows  act  behind  one's  back  ! 
They  act  alive,  but  not  alive  with  people. 
I'm  not  afraid  of  flesh  and  blood  and  bone, 
Robbers    and    such    things,   nor   of    ghosts;     but 

these 

Queer  shifting  shreds  that  are  not  ghosts  nor  men 
Make  me  all  goose-flesh.     What  was  that?     Good 

Lord! 
(FRA  ANGELO  enters  right.) 

123 


t^j^i    *****< 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 
FRA  ANGELO 

Is  that  you,  Rabelin  ? 

(RABELIN  cowers,  but  does  not  answer.) 

Is  that  you,  brother? 
I  missed  you  and  a  something  in  my  heart 
Said  that  you  needed  me.     And  so  I  came. 

RABELIN 

(Softy.) 

I  do  not  need  you. 

FRA  ANGELO 

Then  my  heart  was  wrong. 

RABELIN 

Yes.    Very  probably. 

FRA  ANGELO 

Why  do  you  keep 

Your  face  so  hidden?    Are  there  tales  inscribed 
On  the  truth-telling  tablets  of  your  eyes 
You  dare  not  let  me  read?    Why  do  you  hide? 
Are  you,  a  man  of  seventeen  years,  afraid  ? 
124 


SCENE  III 

RABELIN 

(Turning  sharply.) 
I'm  not  afraid ! 

FRA   ANGELO 


What  errand  are  you  on? 


RABELIN 

What's  that  to  you? 


FRA   ANGELO 

Nothing  —  or  everything. 


RABELIN 

Well,  nothing  then. 


FRA   ANGELO 

There's  something  in  your  voice 

RABELIN 

What  of  it? 

FRA   ANGELO 

Rabelin,  come  back. 

RABELIN 

I  won't. 

FRA   ANGELO 

(Laying  his  hands  on  RABELIN'S  shoulders.) 
What  deviltry  is  on  you  ?    There's  a  door 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

Closed  in  the  shadowy  passage  of  your  eyes. 
You've  slammed  a  door  wherethrough  I  used  to 

pass. 

You've  slammed  it  in  my  face.     Look  up  at  me.^ 
A  wall !  a  wall !     No  passage  for  me  now. 
What  mischief's  brewing  on  the  farther  side  ? 

RABELIN 

What's  that  to  you  ? 

FRA  ANGELO 

I  am  your  friend. 

RABELIN 

My  friend ! 

My  teacher's  what  you  are  and  ever  will  be. 
Because  I  came  to  you  and  asked  to  learn, 
You've  got  a  notion  it's  your  heaven-sent  job 
Forever  to  look  after  me,  to  keep 
My  feet  safe  in  the  straight-and-narrow,  watch 
My  very  goings-out  and  comings-in 
As  though  I  was  a  girl  at  boarding  school 
And  you  my  old-maid  chaperone. 

FRA   ANGELO 

Dear  boy ! 

Look  in  my  eyes.     Am  I  a  friend  or  not  ? 
126 


SCENE   III 
RABELJN 

I  tell  you,  I  am  sick  of  being  taught 

And  led  about  like  a  tame  elephant. 

I  know  some  things  and  now  I'm  going  to  live. 

Perhaps  I'm  not  the  muddle-headed  boy 

You  think  I  am,  perhaps  I  am  a  man, 

Perhaps  I've  got  it  in  me  to  do  things. 

Let  go !     I've  got  my  opportunity, 

And  opportunity  comes  only  once  ! 

Others  have  fought  and  won  —  at  seventeen. 

Why  shouldn't  I  ?    Let  go ! 

(FRA  ANGELO  drops  his  hands  from  RABELIN'S 
shoulders.} 

Where  is  the  gate  ? 
I'm  going  to  the  palace  of  the  Duke ! 

(He  runs  out,  left.} 

FRA   ANGELO 

The  Duke!     What!    Not  — to  heal? 

Youth,  youth !    Ah,  God ! 
Be  merciful  to  the  wild  heart  of  youth. 
(Exit.} 


127 


SCENE  IV 

A  ROOM  IN  THE  DUKE'S  PALACE 

(ALTHAEA  enters  right,  tiptoes  across  stage,  and 
stands  at  extreme  left  of  stage  as  though  listening 
at  a  door.  She  gives  a  sob.  MELISSA  enters, 
also  crossing.) 

ALTHAEA 

(Softly.) 

Has  the  saint  come? 

MELISSA 

Not  yet. 

ALTH^A 

I  scarcely  dare 
Go  back  to  her  and  say  he  hasn't  come. 

MELISSA 
He's  in  the  town. 

ALTHAEA 

I  know.     I  heard  the  bell. 
I  can't  see  why  he  doesn't  come  —  The  Duke ! 

(The  DUKE  enters  right.     The  GIRLS  curtsey  deep.) 
My  lord ! 

128 


SCENE  IV 

MELISSA 

My  lord ! 

DUKE 

(Cheerfully.) 

What  news? 

MELISSA 

No  news,  my  lord. 
She  sobs  and  laughs  and  speaks  of  foolish  things. 

ALTH^A 

Oh,  yield,  my  lord,  before  it  is  too  late. 
It  is  no  sin  to  want  to  be  a  nun 
And  vow  oneself  to  heaven./ 

DUKE 

You  too  are  young. 

You  do  not  understand  such  things.    A  child 
Has  whims  like  this  that  fade  out  and  are  gone/7 
I  am  not  wholly  selfish.     I  desire 
To  shield  her  from  herself,  to  be  her  watchman 
Against  the  intrusive  enemies  of  youth. 

ALTH^A 

It's  not  a  whim,  my  lord.     It  is  a  call. 
I  know  it  is  a  call.     To  see  her  face 
Is  to  be  sure  it  is  a  call  from  God. 
129 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

DUKE 
Spare  me  these  arguments.     Call  the  physician. 

ALTHAEA 

My  lord,  she's  dying ! 

DUKE 

Tush !     Comfort  yourself. 
Girls  do  not  die  as  patly  as  they  faint,  ' 
When  lovers  or  recalcitrant  papas 
Demand  rebuke.     My  girl  shall  have  the  saint 
She's  crying  for,  to  bring  the  red  cheeks  back. 
She  shall  not  have  her  convent.    That  is  final. 
Call  the  physician. 

ALTHAEA 

(Drawing  back.) 

Very  good,  my  lord. 
(Sobbing,  she  goes  out  left,  followed  by  MELISSA.) 

DUKE 
r 
Absurd,  ingenuous,  earnest  heart  of  youth ! 

(Enter  the  PHYSICIAN,  left.) 

PHYSICIAN 

My  lord! 

130 


SCENE   IV 

DUKE 

(Lightly.) 

Well  how's  our  young  besieger? 

PHYSICIAN 

Sire? 

DUKE 

What  spectres  is  she  threatening  me  with  now  ? 
What  bugaboos  to  force  a  stubborn  parent  ? 

PHYSICIAN 
No  bugaboos,  my  lord. 

DUKE 
You  are  too  serious. 

PHYSICIAN 

It  seems  the  hour  demands  it. 

DUKE 

Come,  come.    Laugh. 

You  must  not  trust  her  earnestness  too  much. 
It  is  a  children's  ailment. 

PHYSICIAN 

Sire,  I  fear  — 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

DUKE 
Don't  be  so  serious,  man. 

PHYSICIAN 

Ah,  God  in  heaven, 
She's  dying ! 

DUKE 
What? 

PHYSICIAN 

*"-] 

I  can  do  nothing  more. 

DUKE 
What  did  you  say? 

PHYSICIAN 

She's  flickering,  like  a  lamp, 
Burnt  out. 

DUKE 

You're  a  physician,  and  you  say 
This  dying  is  no  empty  threat  of  hers? 
She's  - 

PHYSICIAN 

She  is  dying. 

132 


SCENE   IV 

DUKE 

Why !     I  must  be  mad. 
This  is  against  all  reason !    Men  might  die 
For  faith,  conviction,  men !     But  not  young  girls 
Of  sixteen  years.     You  are  absurd ! 

PHYSICIAN 

My  lord, 
I  would  I  were. 

DUKE 

I  do  not  understand  — 

You  say — why,  it's  absurd  !     Youth  may  be  strange 
And  from  its  dewy  inexperience  weave 
Amazing  webs  of  whim ;  but  even  youth 
Would  balk  at  perpetrating  such  a  travesty 
Of  reason  and  of  life.   !  You  are  all  wrong ; 
Or  else  in  league  with  her  to  break  my  will. 
Which  is  it? 

PHYSICIAN 

Sire,  I  say  what  I  have  seen. 

DUKE 

I  do  not  understand  the  heart  of  youth. 
If  she  had  been  the  praying  kind,  a  prig, 
Worried  about  salvation,  bigoted, 
133 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

Mawkish,  anaemic,  anything  except 

The  hearty,  wholesome  tomboy  that  she  was, 

Why,  I  might  understand.     A  year  ago, 

One  dusk,  she  saw  a  beautiful  young  nun. 

That's  all  the  stimulus  there  is.     That's  all. 

But  something  opens  in  her,  something  shuts, 

And  suddenly  the  devil-boy  is  gone, 

And  she  is  all  dreams,  and  deep-sparkling  eyes, 

Dreams,  a  long  quarter-year ;  then,  overnight, 

A  blaze  of  faith.     I  said,  she  is  a  child ; 

And  laughed.     She  did  not  laugh.    And  I  laughed 

more 

To  see  the  grief  she  did  not  try  to  hide 
That  I  should  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost 
By  ridiculing  what  to  her  was  holy. 
I  said,  this  fever  will  be  over  soon. 
And  now  you  say  she's  —  dying  ? 

PHYSICIAN 

So  it  seems. 

DUKE 

I  did  not  know  that  children  of  her  age 
Could  feel  so  deeply.     When  they  laugh,  they  laugh 
So  like  the  sunlight,  so  like  running  water, 
134 


SCENE  IV 

So  without  any  backward  look  toward  pain, 
I  did  not  know  that  when  they  wept,  their  woe 
Could  tap  the  same  cold,  deep,  eternal  springs 
That  feed  our  older  grief.     I  did  not  dream 
Her  spirit  might  be  stronger  than  her  flesh 
And  frown  the  body's  youthful  ardor  down. 
I  grope  in  darkness.     Youth  bewilders  me. 
I  cannot  probe  it,  plumb  it,  comprehend 
The  meanings  of  the  songs  and  silences 
That  shake  its  lovely  temples  into  dust. 
Dying,  you  say? 


PHYSICIAN 

(With  a  helpless  gesture.) 

My  lord  — 


DUKE 

Bring  her  in  here, 

Where  she  can  see  what  light  the  day  has  left 
For  a  bewildered  world. 


PHYSICIAN 
(Withdrawing.) 

I  go. 

(He  crosses  to  extreme  left.) 

135 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 
DUKE 

Dear  heaven! 

What  an  unmotivated  farce  is  life  — 
Unless  indeed  —  Where  is  the  holy  man  ? 

PHYSICIAN 
(Returning.) 

They're  bringing  her,  my  lord. 

DUKE 

Good.    You  may  go. 

(The  PHYSICIAN  bows  and  goes  out  back.) 
The  holy  man  !     Is  he  the  answer  ?    Ah! 

(Enter  left,  ALTHAEA,  MELISSA,  and  FOUR  other 
GIRLS,  attendants  on  the  PRINCESS  ARABIS,  bear 
ing  a  cot  on  which  ARABIS  is  lying.  They  set  the 
cot  down  at  left  centre,  forward,  and  group  them 
selves  about  it.) 

ARABIS 

(Faintly.) 
It  must  be  very  late. 

DUKE 

The  sun  has  set. 

ARABIS 
You  promised  that  the  holy  man  would  come. 


SCENE  IV 

DUKE 

I  sent  for  him.     He  was  delayed,  perhaps, 
And  will  still  come. 

ARABIS 

I  fear  he  will  not  come. 

DUKE 

I  sent  a  page  to  meet  him. 

ARABIS 

Oh,  I  fear 

The  messenger  forgot,  or  else  the  word 
He  bore  from  you  lacked  warmth.     If  the  saint 

knew 

How  much  I  want  him  he  would  come,  I  know. 
There  is  so  much  I  want  to  ask  of  him. 
I  think  that  I  could  live,  if  I  saw  him, 
And  he  could  tell  me  how  to  make  my  way 
Through    this    most    difficult    thicket.     Why,    it 

seemed 

As  though  all  weakness  faded  like  the  dark 
At  your  mere  word  that  he  might  come.    The  sun 
Was  high  then.     That  was  long  ago.     And  now 
The  night  comes  on,  and  he  has  not  yet  come. 
137 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

I'm  hot  and  very  tired. 

You  see,  if  Christ 

Called,  and  I  did  not  come,  and  up  in  heaven 
My  mother  heard  him  call,  and  stood  by  him 
Waiting  for  me  to  answer  all  night  long  — 

ALTHAEA 

She's  wandering  again. 

ARABIS 

(Dreamily.) 

What  did  you  say? 

ALTHAEA 

Sleep,  sleep,  my  Arabis. 

ARABIS 

I  can't.     You  know 
Mother  is  weeping,  for  she  hasn't  heard 
The  sound  of  all  sweet  sounds  she  wants  to  hear. 
And  Christ  is  saying,  "Never  mind,  don't  cry, 
She'll  answer  soon."     But  mother's  half  afraid 
I  never  will  — 

DUKE 

Oh,  child,  you  break  my  heart ! 
138 


SCENE  IV 

ARABIS 

I  try  to  call  and  try  to  call,  and  can't. 
(The  PAGE  enters.} 

PAGE 

My  lord! 

DUKE 

He's  here? 

PAGE 

He's  in  the  town,  my  lord. 

DUKE 
Not  here? 

ALTHAEA 

Not  here  ? 

ARABIS 

(Faintly.) 

Not  here  ? 

PAGE 

He's  on  his  way. 
I  dare  say,  any  minute  he'll  be  here. 

ARABIS 

What  did  he  say?  — 

ALTHAEA 

He's  coming,  Arabis ! 
139 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

DUKE 
(To  PAGE.) 

Bring  him  up  quickly  when  he  comes. 
(Exit  PAGE.) 

ALTH^A 

The  saint  — 
The  holy  man  —  he's  coming. 

ARABIS 

(With  a  long,  glad  sigh.) 

Oh! 

MELISSA 

Listen ! 

ALTHAEA 

He'll  just  say,  Rise !    And  you'll  get  on  your  feet. 

MELISSA 

Listen !    It  won't  be  long  before  you'll  hear 
His  footsteps  now. 

ALTH^A 

Listen !    Was  that  a  step  ? 

MELISSA 

First  on  the  stair,  then  in  the  corridor  — 

ALTH^A 

Then  at  the  door  — 

140 


SCENE   IV 
MELISSA 

And  then  here  in  the  room  ! 

ARABIS 
Yes.    And  he'll  cry,  Arise  I 

DUKE 

(Aside.) 

Oh,  heart  of  youth ! 

MELISSA 

And  you'll  be  up  on  your  two  feet  again. 

ARABIS 
And  strong,  you  think? 

ALTHAEA 

Of  course.    And  with  red  cheeks. 

MELISSA 

And  all  the  hair  you  lost  will  come  again 
Just  twice  as  beautiful.     It's  always  so 
In  story-books. 

ARABIS 

(Dreamily.) 

I  don't  care  about  hair. 

141 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 
ALTH.EA 

Listen  !     I  heard  a  knocking  at  the  gate  ! 

ARABIS 

I  heard  it,  too  ! 

MELISSA 

Listen  !     They've  drawn  the  bolt  ! 
I  heard  it  grate. 


There  !     Did  you  hear  the  chain  ? 


DUKE 

(Crossing  swiftly  to  back.} 
Steps  ! 

MELISSA 

On  the  stair  ! 


ALTHAEA 

Louder  and  louder  now  ! 


ARABIS 

(Faintly.} 
Steps  ! 

MELISSA 

Oh,  it's  he  ! 

142 


SCENE   IV 
ALTHAEA 

The  holy  man ! 

ARABIS 

Dear  mother, 
Help  me  to  do  my  share. 

DUKE 
(Softly.) 

Good  God,  have  mercy. 

PAGE 
(Re  entering.) 

My  lord,  the  holy  man  — 

DUKE 

Let  him  come  in. 

ARABIS 

At  last! 

MELISSA 

Now  in  a  minute  you'll  be  well. 
(RABELIN,  disguised,  enters.     The  PAGE  goes  out. 
The  DUKE,  ALTH.EA  and  MELISSA  fall  on  their 
knees.) 

RABELIN 

( Uncomfortably.) 
Please  —  please  get  up. 

143 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

DUKE 

(Kissing  RABELTN'S  hand  as  he  rises.) 
Father  — 

RABELIN 

(Awed.) 

Are  you  the  Duke  ? 
DUKE 
I  am. 

RABELIN 

You  know,  you  mustn't  kiss  my  hand. 

DUKE 
Forgive. 

RABELIN 

I  will. 

ALTH/EA 

(Softly  to  MELISSA.) 

A  curious  holy  man. 

DUKE 
Here  is  my  daughter. 

RABELIN 

(Approaching  the  cot.) 

Oh! 
144 


SCENE  IV 

DUKE 

I  think  my  page 
Told  you  our  sorrow.     Yet  you  seem  surprised. 

RABELIN 

(S^fOy.) 

She's  very  beautiful. 

DUKE 

Without,  within. 
Her  body  is  no  fairer  than  her  soul. 

ARABIS 

I  wish  it  were  so. 

RABELIN 

(To  DUKE.) 

Wait  outside  the  door. 

(The  DUKE  retires  to  the  right,  ALTH^A  and  ME 
LISSA  and  ATTENDANTS  to  the  left.} 

ARABIS 

You're  very  young.     I  thought  all  saints  were  old. 

RABELIN 

I'm  —  older  —  than  I  look. 

ARABIS 

I'm  glad. 
MS 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 
RABELIN 

But  years 

Don't  count  in  matters  of  this  kind,  of  course. 
It's  what  we've  learned  from  worry  anpl  the  knocks 
Of  hard  experience  that  counts,  not  years. 
You'll  understand  when  you  have  lived.     Of  course, 
It's  easy  to  be  good,  before  you  know 
The  fun  of  being  wicked  — 

ARABIS 

(Bewildered.) 

You  are  strange. 

You  say  so  much  that  I  can't  understand. 

RABELIN 

You're  young.     When  you  have  lived  — 

ARABIS 

When  I  have  lived, 

It  won't  much  matter,  will  it,  what  is  said 
On  earth  ?     For  I  will  understand  the  words 
The  angels  speak  to  one  another  in  heaven, 
And  need  no  lesser  understanding. 

RABELIN 

Still, 
Experience  — 

146 


SCENE  IV 
ARABIS 

Oh,  I  am  sick  of  words. 
My  head  burns.     Why  are  you  so  different 
From  what  I  dreamed  ? 

RABELTN 

How  —  different  ? 

ARABIS 

(Storing.) 

He's  standing  on  the  crystal  wall  of  heaven 
Telling  my  mother,  "Wait.     She  will  speak  soon. 
Listen.     Above  the  roaring  of  the  world 
Can  you  not  hear  the  voice  of  Arabis?" 
I  try  to  speak  and  can't.     Oh,  holy  man, 
Help  me  to  speak ! 

RABELIN 

She's  very  sick. 

ARABIS 

Oh,  mother! 
Why  can't  I  speak? 

RABELIN 

(In  fear.) 

Suppose  — 

147 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

ARABIS 
(Conscious  again.) 

What  did  you  say? 

RABELIN 

(Relieved.) 

She's  clear  again ! 

ARABIS 

If  I  could  see  your  eyes 

I  might  gain  strength.     I  feel  so  limp  and  weak. 
It's  always  in  the  eyes  God  has  his  seat. 
Perhaps,  if  I  could  look  into  your  eyes  — 

RABELIN 

(Turning  his  head  away,  softly  to  himself.) 

What  have  I  done  ? 

ARABIS 

You  will  not  let  me  look. 

(She  begins  to  weep  softly.) 

RABELIN 

(Kneeling  impetuously  at  her  bedside.) 
Don't    cry.     Forgive    me.     Oh,    don't    cry!     You 

wrench 

The  living  heart  right  out  of  me.     Don't  cry. 
Look  in  my  eyes. 

148 


SCENE   IV 
ARABIS 

I  can't  see,  for  these  tears. 

RABELIN 

Oh,  please  don't  cry. 

ARABIS 

\  You  are  so  different 

From  what  I  hoped  and  longed  for.    I  was  sure 
The  holy  man  who  healed  folk  would  heal  me. 
I  did  not  wish  to  live  until  I  heard 
That  you  were  near  with  healing  in  your  eyes. 
I  knew  how  you  would  guide  my  strengthened  feet. 
And  when  I  heard  you  on  the  stair,  I  said, 
"One  minute  more  and  he  will  come,  and  stand 
Beside  my  bed  and  lift  his  hands,  and  cry, 
Arise  I  and  I  will  rise,  healed."  —  Such  a  dream ! 

RABELIN 

(Urgently.) 

Don't  be  afraid.     I  —  know  the  way  —  it's  done. 
Of  course,  you  shall  be  healed. 
(Faintly,  as  he  draws  back.) 

Oh,  close  those  eyes ! 
They  burn  into  my  conscience ! 
149 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 


ARABIS 

I  believe ! 


By  God's  dear  grace,  I  know  I  can  be  healed. 
Oh,  I  believe,  believe,  believe. 


RABELIN 

(Aside.) 

Dear  God ! 

I'll  serve  you  ever  after  !     Give  me  help ! 


ARABIS 

I  know  I  can  be  healed. 

RABELIN 

(Faintly,  apprehensively.) 

Rise.     You  are  healed ! 

ARABIS 

(With  a  glad  cry.) 

Healed ! 

(She  tries  to  raise  herself,  struggles  and  falls  back, 

struggles  upward  again,  and  again  falls  back.) 
Give  me  strength !     Oh,  give  me  faith ! 

RABELIN 

(Prayerfully.) 

God!     God! 

150 


SCENE  IV 
ARABIS 

(With  a  last  supreme  effort.) 
Mother !     If  you  could  only  hear  me,  hear  — 
(She  falls  back,  unconscious.) 

RABELIN 

(Flinging  himself  on  his  knees  beside  her.) 
What  is  it  ?    Are  you  tired  ?    Are  you  asleep  ? 
What  is  it  ?     Speak !    Oh,  answer,  answer !     Speak ! 
Oh,  do  not  lie  so  silent  and  so  white! 
Your    cheek    is    cold.       Your   hand  is  cold   and 

limp. 

Arabis !  princess !     Princess  Arabis ! 
Oh,  beautiful  sweet  flower,  Arabis ! 
The  last  tears  that  she  shed  are  not  yet  dry 
Upon    her    cheek.       Oh,    wake!       Why    do    you 

sleep 
So  soundly?     Wake. 

(He  shakes  her  gently.) 

Oh,  wake !    I  beg.     Oh,  wake ! 
I  see  my  sin !     You've  punished  me  enough, 
Sweet  Arabis.     Forgive.     Relent.     Relent ! 
Oh,  punish  me  no  more  with  those  closed  eyes, 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

Those  cold,  limp  hands !     She's  fainted. 

(Calling.) 

Some  one!     Help! 

(Enter  the  DUKE,  right.) 

DUKE 
What  is  it? 

RABELIN 

Water !     Quick !     Some  one  bring  water ! 

DUKE 

(Kneeling  beside  the  bed.) 
She's  dead! 

RABELIN 

No,  no,  not  that,  not  that ! 
(ALTH^A  and  MELISSA  enter  left.    ALTH^A  brings 
water.) 

ALTHAEA 

Here's  water ! 
(They  bathe  ARABIS'S  face.) 

DUKE 

What  have  you  done  ?    What  evil  — 

RABELIN 

No,  no,  no ! 

Nothing!     She     lives.     She's     tired.     That's     all. 
She  sleeps. 

152 


SCENE   IV 

ALTHAEA 

I  cannot  hear  her  heart  beat. 

MELISSA 

Is  she  dead? 

RABELIN 

No,  no !     She  shall  be  healed.     She  shall  rise  up. 

(On  his  knees  in  pleading  prayer.) 
Dear  God !     Forgive.     Forgive.     Make  her  rise  up. 
I  did  not  mean  such  wickedness.     Ah,  God, 
I  did  not  mean  it.     I'll  be  good !     I  swear. 
Humble  and  good.     Oh,  this  time,  save  me,  God ! 
I  thought,  I  really  thought  that  I  could  heal. 
If  I  deceived,  oh,  I  deceived  myself 
As  well  as  her.     Oh,  heal  her,  God !    I'll  pray 
Until  you  must  relent.     Oh,  you'll  not  wreck 
Two  lives  for  one  impulsive  moment.     I  — 
Just  did  not  understand.     I  was  not  bad. 
Just  vain  and  proud. 

DUKE 
(At  left,  motioning  the  HANDMAIDENS  outside.) 

Bear  her  into  her  chamber. 
(The  HANDMAIDENS  enter.) 
153 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 
RABELIN 

Not  yet. 

(At  the  bedside.) 

Sweet  Arabis,  shake  off  that  slumber. 
You  are  so  beautiful,  you  must  be  kind. 
Surely  behind  your  beautiful  white  face 
Are  mercy  and  relenting.     Wake,  oh,  wake ! 
I  did  not  mean  to  wrong  you.     Oh,  be  merciful ! 
Wake !     Wake !     She  does  not  stir  —  she's  —    Oh 
she's  —  look !  - 

(Staggering  backwards.) 
Fra  Angelo  !     Fra  Angelo !     Fra  Angelo ! 
I  need  you ! 

DUKE 
(Rigid  and  cold.) 

Bear  the  princess  to  her  chamber. 

RABELIN 

(Clutching  the  DUKE'S  arm.) 
Send  for  Fra  Angelo !     Cry  through  the  streets. 
Send  for  the  holy  man. 

DUKE 

Why,  what  are  you? 
154 


SCENE   IV 
RABELIN 

(Flinging  off  his  cowl.) 
I  am  a  sham,  a  fraud,  a  murderer ! 

DUKE 

(Retreating  in  horror.) 
Oh,  base,  base,  base ! 

(The    HANDMAIDENS    surge    indignantly    toward 
RABELIN.) 

Let  no  one  touch  the  man. 
There  are  diseases  of  the  soul  in  him 
Who  cheats  in  God's  name.     Go !     I  have  no  sword 
To  reach  the  depths  where  those  diseases  root. 
Go  !     Let  the  earth  unclose  and  cover  you. 
I  will  not  stain  my  sword  with  sulphur.     Go ! 
(The  DUKE  goes  out,  left,  followed  by  ALTHAEA, 
MELISSA  and  the  other  HANDMAIDENS,  bearing 
ARABIS.) 

RABELIN 

(Stumbling  after  them.) 
Not  all,  all  base.     I  swear  it.    Arabis ! 

(He  falls  down  and  remains  lying  in  an  attitude  of 
lifeless  despair.    ALTH^A  appears  left.) 
I5S 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 
ALTHAEA 

(Calling.) 

Physician !     Come !    Physician !    Oh,  where  is  he  ? 

(She  crosses  to  the  back  and  calls.) 
Page !    Page ! 

(The  PAGE  enters  back) 

PAGE 
Yes,  lady? 

ALTILEA 

Run.     Fetch  the  physician. 
(The  PAGE  disappears  again.    ALTHAEA  crosses  to 
the  left  and  goes  out) 

RABELIN 

(Flinging  himself  over  on  his  back) 
What  have  I  done?     (Pause)     Oh,   God!    What 

have  I  done  ? 
(The  PHYSICIAN  enters  back  and  swiftly  crosses  and 

disappears  left) 
Who's   that?    He's  gone.     To  her,   perhaps.    To 

he, 
If  only  I  could  wash  out  of  my  eyes 

156 


SCENE  IV 

The  look  she  gave  me.    Oh,  the  heights  and  deeps 
Of  that  reproach !     It  was  as  though  she  cried, 
"I  wanted  strength  and  you  had  none  to  give  me. 
I  wanted  God,  and  you  had  only  words." 
The  sorrow  in  her  eyes.     The  pain ! 
(ALTH.EA  r centers,  left.} 

ALTHAEA 

(Calling.) 

Lights ! 
(Crossing  to  back.) 

Lights ! 

RABELIN 

(Clutching  ALTHAEA'S  dress.) 
Has  she  awaked? 

ALTHAEA 

(Startled.) 

Who's  there? 

RABELIN 

Has  she  awaked  ? 

ALTHAEA 

No. 

RABELIN 

Oh! 

ALTHJEA 

Poor  boy ! 
(Exit.} 

157 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 
RABELIN 

Oh,  God !     (Pause.}     Dear  God ! 
I  really  thought  that  I  could  heal.     Forgive. 
I  did  not  know  that  men  must  heal  themselves 
Before  they  dare  stretch  out  their  hands  to  heal 
The  other  sick.     I  know  now.     Oh,  I  know ! 

(PAGES  appear  carrying  torches  that  flare  and 
flame  eerily  in  the  gathering  dusk.  THEY  cross 
the  stage  and  go  out  left.) 

Forgive  !     See,  I  am  punished.     You  have  whipped 
My  spirit,  God,  my  heart,  with  a  barbed  whip. 
I'll  not  be  proud  again,  or  vain,  or  stubborn. 
I'll  serve,  I'll  learn,  I'll  labor.     You  shall  know  - 
(HE  rises  to  his  feet  with  a  sudden  consciousness  of 

new  strength  and  resolution.) 
God,  you  shall  know  you  need  teach  Rabelin 
His  lesson  —  only  once. 

(He  stands  upright,  victorious.  Enter,  right,  FRA 
ANGELO.) 

FRA  ANGELO 

You  called.    I  came. 

RABELIN 

(Without  turning.) 
I  knew  that  you  would  come. 
JS8 


SCENE  IV 
FRA  ANGELO 

Why,  yes,  of  course. 
A  friend  comes  when  he's  called. 

RABELIN 

(Deeply  stirred.) 

A  friend? 

FRA   ANGELO 

(Taking  RABELIN'S  two  hands  in  his  and  looking 
deep  into  his  eyes.) 

A  friend. 

(RABELIN  sinks  slowly  down  at  FRA  ANGELO'S 
feet.  FRA  ANGELO  lays  his  hands  gently  on  the 
boy's  head.) 

If  there  are  any  shades  in  God's  deep  love 
I  do  believe  His  deepest  love  goes  out 
To  the  tormented,  irresponsible, 
Gay,  eager,  burning,  foolish  heart  of  youth. 

(HE  drops  his  hands;  RABELIN  remains  motionless. 
FRA  ANGELO  crosses  softly  to  the  left  and  goes  out. 
In  the  distance,  the  CHOIR  of  the  Cathedral  may 
be  heard  again  chanting.  From  the  left,  PAGES, 
bearing  torches,  stumble  in,  startled.) 
159 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 
A  PAGE 

Who  —  who  was  that  ? 

(The  PHYSICIAN  enters,  confused.) 

PHYSICIAN 
Who  was  it  ? 


PAGE 

.  /  don't  know. 


(The  DUKE  enters,  followed  a  moment  later  by 
ALTHAEA  and  MELISSA  and  the  other  ATTENDANTS 
all  in  more  or  less  confusion.) 


DUKE 
Strange ! 

PHYSICIAN 

Do  you  know  him,  sire  ? 


DUKE 

I  could  not  tell. 
The  place  was  dark. 

PHYSICIAN 

I  stood  beside  the  bed. 
He  came  into  the  room  and  looked  at  me  — 
1 60 


SCENE  IV 
DUKE 

My  tongue  was  lamed  that  tried  to  challenge  him. 
His  eyes  — 

ALTHAEA 

His  eyes ! 

MELISSA 

His  wonderful,  deep  eyes ! 

PHYSICIAN 

(Awed.) 
Sire,  was  that  —  Death? 

DUKE 
Strange,  strange !     But  no  —  not  Death ! 

RABELIN 

(With  a  cry  of  understanding.) 

The  stars  are  out.    That's  why  he's  strange.    The 
stars ! 

DUKE 
You !    You  here  ? 

RABELIN 

Yes  — 
161 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 
DUKE 

(To  PAGES.) 

Seize  him.     Take  him  away! 
Take  him  away  before  I  murder  him. 
Take  him  away  — 

ALTH^A 

Look! 

MELISSA 

Heaven ! 

DUKE 

What's  that— white  thing? 
(The  PAGES  who  have  laid  hands  on  RABELIN  re 
treat  with  confused  exclamations.  The  DUKE, 
PHYSICIAN,  ALTHAEA,  MELISSA,  TORCH-BEARERS 
and  HANDMAIDENS  stand  huddled  in  an  amazed 
group,  in  centre  stage.  Out  of  the  dusk  at  left 
appears  ARABIS,  looking  -very  slender  and  white, 
and  moves  slowly  toward  RABELIN.  HE  steps 
aside  startled.  The  OTHERS  cry  out  and  retreat 
stumblingly  before  her.} 

162 


SCENE  IV 
ARABIS 

Don't  run  away  from  me.     I'm  not  a  ghost. 

(The  GROUP  draws  back  yet  further,  in  panic.) 
He  said,  Awake  I  and  I  awoke.     He  said, 
Arise  I  and  like  a  new,  fresh  wind 
Life  seemed  to  fill  my  sails,  and  I  —  came  forth. 

DUKE 
God  pity  me.     My  child.     My  poor,  dead  child ! 

ARABIS 

Don't  say  such  things.     I'm  really  not  a  ghost. 
Touch  me.     I  am  alive !     I'm  strong,  I'm  well ! 

PHYSICIAN 

It  is  her  ghost. 

ALTILEA 

Poor  Arabis ! 

ARABIS 

Oh,  dear ! 

Has  no  one  faith  enough  to  think  that  God 
Could  raise  a  sick  girl  up? 
163 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

RABELIN 

(Who  has  been  watching  her,  spell-bound  with  won 
der  and  growing  ecstasy.) 

Yes.     Yes.     Yes. 
(HE  goes  toward  her  with  slow,  hesitating  steps  and 

fixed  eyes.) 
See.    /  believe.     I  knew  that  you  would  live. 

(Touching  his  heart.) 

In  here  I  knew.     When  God  sent  me  my  friend, 
I  knew  that  He  forgave,  and  you  would  live. 

ARABIS 
(Tenderly.) 
You  ?    Who  are  you  ? 

RABELIN 

I  did  an  evil  thing. 

ARABIS 

Oh,  I  remember  now.    And  yet  —  and  yet  — 
You  do  not  look  as  though  your  heart  were  base. 
I  scarce  remember  what  you  did  to  me. 
I  only  know,  in  some  black  desert,  hung 
Between  the  stars  and  earth,  you  gave  me  pain. 
164 


SCENE  IV 

But  that  is  past,  and  worse  things  I'd  forgive, 

Because  you  knew  that  I  was  not  a  ghost. 

To  think  a  boy  would  know  more  than  all  these ! 

RABELIN 

(Kneeling  before  her.) 
Oh,  lady,  let  me  serve  you. 

ARABIS 

(With  childlike  eagerness.) 

Why,  indeed. 

I'll  tell  my  father.     He  must  make  a  place 
For  you  somewhere,  so  we  can  talk  together 
Of  many  things  I  dream  of  and  half  see, 
Things  you'll  be  glad  to  hear  about,  I  know, 
For  you  have  friendly  eyes. 

(SHE  chatters  on,  absorbed.  The  OTHERS  draw 
nearer  as  they  slowly  realize  that  SHE  is  actually 
alive.) 

A  thousand  things ! 

My  head's  just  full  of  things  to  talk  about. 
I  want  to  know  what  you  think  about  life 
And  God  and  convents.     Do  you  know,  I  think 
That  one  can  serve  the  Lord  in  other  ways 
Than  in  a  nunnery. 

165 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

DUKE 
Child,  it  is  you ! 

ALTH^A 

(Touching  ARABIS  timidly.) 
She's  real. 

MELISSA 
She's  living ! 

ARABIS 

Why,  of  course,  of  course! 
But  it  is  strange  to  be  back  in  the  world. 
Where  is  the  holy  man  ? 

DUKE 

Go.     Bring  him  here. 
(The  PHYSICIAN  goes  out  left.) 

RABELIN 

(To  DUKE.) 

Forgive  me. 

DUKE 
(Giving  him  his  hand.) 

Yes.     I  do  forgive  you. 
166 


SCENE  IV 
ARABIS 

(Crying  sharply.)  Oh! 

DUKE 

What  is  it  ?     Speak. 

ARABIS 

(Mysteriously.) 

He  is  not  in  my  room. 
I  felt  a  gentle  wind  blow  through  my  heart. 

He's  gone. 

PHYSICIAN 
(Reentering.) 

He  is  not  there. 

DUKE 

Not  in  the  room  ? 

ARABIS 
(Softly.) 

There  is  no  door  but  this ! 

RABELIN 

Not  in  the  room  ? 

ALTH^A 

Not  in  the  room  ? 

MELISSA 

Not  in  the  room? 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 
PHYSICIAN 

He's  gone. 

DUKE 

(To  PHYSICIAN.) 

The  windows  there  are  barred.    There's  no  way  out 
But  this,  but  this,  no  way  but  through  this  room ! 
If  you  say,  he's  not  there  — 


ARABIS 
(Awe-struck.) 

Who  —  was  —  he? 


DUKE 

Yes. 


Who  —  was  —  he? 


RABELIN 

Why,  my  friend,  of  course !    My  friend  ! 
(Grasping  a  torch.) 
Come !     Come !    We'll  find  him ! 

ARABIS 

Take  me  with  you ! 

DUKE 

Lights ! 

(THEY  surge  forth  with  their  torches  into  the  night.) 
168 


SCENE  IV 
RABELIN 

Come !     (More  distantly.)     Come ! 

(From  afar  of,  but  dearly,  like  a  challenge.) 

Come! 

(Numberless  torches  appear,  following  RABELIN  up 
the  steep  incline  and  out  of  sight.  From  a  dis 
tance  the  cathedral  CHOIR  may  be  heard  again, 
singing  first  softly,  then  more  and  more  trium 
phantly,  until  the  swelling  music  of  the  hymn 
dominates  all  other  sounds,  finally  drowning  out 
even  RABELIN'S  distant  call.) 

Come !    Come !    Come ! 

Hymn 

Out  of  pain  and  black  disaster, 
Hear  our  voices,  mighty  Master ! 
Fires  of  hell  rise  round  and  sear  us, 
Lord  in  love  and  pity,  hear  us ! 
War  and  torment  roar,  assailing, 
Sick  with  sorrow,  earth  is  wailing. 
Trampled,  broken,  bleeding,  dying, 
Lord,  for  Thee  our  hearts  are  crying ! 


THE  HEART  OF  YOUTH 

Lord,  in  pride  we  scorned  to  heed  Thee, 
Boasting,  "  God,  we  do  not  need  Thee  1 
We,  to  whom  all  earth  is  given, 
What  have  we  to  ask  of  Heaven  ? 
Soaring,  delving,  warring,  slaying, 
What  have  we  to  do  with  praying?" 
Lord,  forgive  the  mad  words  spoken. 
Lord,  behold !  Our  pride  is  broken. 

Lord,  with  hearts  abrased  and  burning, 
See,  Thy  beaten  sons  returning ! 
Blind  with  smoke  and  bent  with  grieving, 
Hungry,  tattered  —  but  believing ! 
See,  we  gather  round  about  Thee, 
Failures,  failures,  Lord,  without  Thee ! 
Take  us,  Lord.     These  hands,  O  take  them ! 
Breathe  upon  our  souls  and  wake  them.   - 

Lord,  we  fell  in  our  defiance. 
Look !  With  Thee  we  stand  as  giants ! 
Lord,  we  perished,  burning,  rending, 
Lord,  with  Thee  is  battle's-ending ! 
Lord,  with  Thee,  the  darkness  dwindles, 
Lord,  with  Thee,  the  daylight  kindles. 
170 


HYMN 

Lord,  we  faint  without  Thee.     Feed  us ! 
Lord,  we  fail  without  Thee.     Lead  us ! 

Lead  us,  Lord ! 

Lead  us,  Lord ! 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America. 


171 


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